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BY

HERBERT SPENCER,

ATJTHOB 07

THE PEIN0IPLE8 OF PSYCHOLOGY,' "SOCIAL STATICS, "ESSAYS, MOBAL,
POLITICAL AND AESTHETIC," "EDUCATION," "FIRST PRINCIPLES,"
ETC., ETC., ETC. ,

A NOTICE OF SPENCER'S "NEW 8YSTEX OF PHILOSOPHY."

NEW YORK:

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET.

1880.

.•3

&i&

\

«

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864,

By D. APPLETON & CO.,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.

AMERICAN NOTICE

OF A

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY.

BY

HERBERT SPENCER.

The author of the following work, Mr. Herbert Spencer, of
England, lias entered upon the publication of a new philosophical
system, so original and comprehensive as to deserve the attention
of all earnest inquirers. He proposes nothing less than to unfold
such a complete philosophy of Nature, physical, organic, mental
and social, as Science has now for the first time made possible,
and which, if successfully executed, will constitute a momentous
step in the progress of thought.

His system is designed to embrace five works ; each a distinct
treatise, but all closely connected in plan, and treating of the fol-
lowing subjects in the order presented : 1st, First Principles ;
2d, Principles of Biology; 3d, Principles of Psychology; 4th,
Principles of Sociology; 5th, Principles of Morality. The
opening work of the series — First Principles — though somewhat
of an introductory character, is an independent and completed

ri NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCER?8

argument. It consists of two parts : first, " The Unknowable," and
second, " The Laws of the Knowable." Unattractive as these titles
may seem, they indicate a discussion of great originality and
transcendent interest.

When public consideration is invited to a system of philosophy
so extended as to comprehend the entire scheme of nature and
humanity, and so bold as to deal with them in the ripest spirit
of science, it is natural that many should ask at the outset how
the author stands related to the problem of Religion. Mr.
Spencer finds this the preliminary question of his philosophy,
and engages with it at the threshold of his undertaking. Before
attempting to work out a philosophical scheme, he sees that it is
at first necessary to find how far Philosophy can go and where
she must stop — the necessary limits of human knowledge, or the
circle which bounds all rational and legitimate investigation ; and
this opens at once the profound and imminent question of the
spheres and relation of Religion and Science.

Mr. Spencer is a leading representative of that school of think-
ers which holds that, as man is finite, he can grasp and know
only the finite ; — that by the inexorable conditions of thought all
real knowledge is relative and phenomenal, and hence that we
cannot go behind phenomena to find the ultimate causes and solve
the ultimate mystery of being. In such assertions as that " God
cannot by any searching be found out ; " that " a God understood
would be no God at all ; " and that " to think God is as we think
Him to be is blasphemy," we see the recognition of this idea of
the inscrutableness of the Absolute Cause. The doctrine itself is
neither new nor limited to a few exceptional thinkers. It is
widely affirmed by enlightened science, and pervades nearly all
the cultivated theology of the present day. Sir William
Hamilton and Dr. Mansel are among its recent and ablest ex-
pounders. "With the exception," says Sir William Hamilton,
" of a few late absolutist theorizers in Germany, this is perhaps

VEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. VH

tlie tnitn of all others urost harmoniously reechoed by every
philosopher of every school ; " and among these he names Pro-
tagoras, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Melanchthon, Scaliger, Bacon,
Spinoza, Newton, and Kant.

But though Mr. Spencer accepts this doctrine, he has not left
it where he found it. The world is indebted to him for having
advanced the argument to a higher and grander conclusion — a
conclusion which changes the philosophical aspect of the whole
question, and involves the profoundest consequences. Hamilton
and Mansel bring us, by their inexorable logic, to the result that
we can neither know nor conceive the Infinite, and that every
attempt to do so involves us in contradiction and absurdity ; but
having reached this vast negation, their logic and philosophy
break down. Accepting their conclusions as far as they go, Mr.
Spencer maintains the utter incompleteness of their reasoning,
and, pushing the inquiry still farther, he demonstrates that
though we cannot grasp the Infinite in thought, we can realize it
in consciousness. He shows that though by the laws of thinking
we are rigorously prevented from forming a conception of that
Incomprehensible, Omnipotent Power by which we are acted
upon in all phenomena, yet we are, by the laws of thought, equally
prevented from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of this
Power. He proves that this consciousness of a Supreme Cause is
not negative, but positive — that it is indestructible, and has a
higher certainty than any other belief whatever. The Unknow-
able, then, m the view of Mr. Spencer, is not a mere term of nega-
tion, nor a word employed only to express our ignorance, but it
means that Infinite Reality, that Supreme but Inscrutable Cause,
of which the universe is but a manifestation, and which has an
ever-present disclosure in human consciousness.

Having thus found an indestructible basis in human nature
for the religious sentiment, Mr. Spencer next shows that all reli-
gions rest upon this foundation, and contain a fundamental veritj

Tlii NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCER^

— a soul of truth, which remains when their conflicting doctrines
and discordant peculiarities are mutually cancelled. In the lower
and grosser forms of religion this truth is but dimly discerned,
but becomes ever clearer the more highly the religion is devel-
oped, surviving every change, and remaining untouched by the
severest criticism.

Mr. Spencer then proceeds to demonstrate that all science
tends to precisely the same great conclusion; — in all directions
investigation leads to insoluble mystery. Alike in the external and
the internal worlds, the man of science sees himself in the midst
of perpetual changes of which he can discover neither the begin-
ning nor the end. If he looks inward, he perceives that both
ends of the thread of consciousness are beyond his grasp. If he
resolve the appearances, properties, and movements of surround-
ing things into manifestations of Force in Space and Time, he still
finds that Force, Space, and Time pass all understanding. Thus
do all lines of argument converge to the same conclusion.
Whether we scrutinize internal consciousness or external phenom-
ena, or trace to their root the faiths of mankind, we reach that
common ground where all antagonisms disappear — that highest
and most abstract of all truths, which is affirmed with equal
certainty by both religion and science, and in which may be
found their full and final reconciliation.

It is perhaps hardly just to Mr. Spencer to state his position
upon this grave subject without giving also the accompanying
reasoning ; but so compressed and symmetrical is his argument
that it cannot be put into narrower compass without mutilation.
To those interested in the advance of thought in this direction,
we may say that the discussion will be found unsurpassed in
nobleness of aim, eloquence of statement, philosophic breadth,
and depth and power of reasoning.

This portion of the work embraces five chapters, as follows
I. Religion and Science; II. Ultimate Religious Ideas; ILL

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. IX

Ultimate Scientific Ideas ; IV. The Relativity of all Knowledge ;
V. The Reconciliation.

The second and larger portion of First Principles Mr.
Spencer designates " The Laws of the Knowable." By these he
understands those fundamental and universal principles reached
by scientific investigation, which underlie all phenomena, and
are necessary to their explanation. Certain great laws have been
established which are found equally true in all departments of
nature, and these are made the foundation of his philosophy.
The sublime idea of the Unity of the Universe, to which science
has long been tending, Mr. Spencer has made peculiarly his own.
Through the vast diversities of nature he discerns a oneness of
order and method, which necessitates but one philosophy of being ;
the same principles being found to regulate the course of celes-
tial movement, terrestrial changes, and the phenomena of life,
mind, and society. These may all be comprehended in a single
philosophical scheme, so that each shall throw light upon the
other, and the mastery of one help to the comprehension of all.

To Mr. Spencer the one conception which spans the universe
and solves the widest range of its problems — which reaches out-
ward through boundless space and back through illimitable time,
resolving the deepest questions of life, mind, society, history, and
civilization, which predicts the glorious possibilities of the future,
and reveals the august method by which the Divine Power work?
evermore, — this one, all-elucidating conception, is expressed by
the term Evolution. To this great subject he has devoted his
remarkable powers of thought for many years, and stands toward
it not only in the relation of an expositor, but also in that of a
discoverer.

The fact that all living beings are developed from a minute
structureless germ has long been known, while the law which
governs their evolution — that the change is ever from the homo-
geneous to the heterogeneous — has been arrived at within a gen-

X NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCEr's

eration. But this fact of growth is by no means limited to the
physical history of plants and animals — it is exemplified upon a
far more extended scale. Astronomers hold that the solar system
has gone through such a process, and Geologists teach that the
earth has had its career of evolution. Animals have a mental
as well as a physical development, and there is also a progress of
knowledge, of religion, of the arts and sciences, of institutions,
manners, governments, and civilization itself. Mr. Spencer has
the honour of having first established the universality of the prin-
ciple by which all these changes are governed. The law of evo-
lution, which has been hitherto limited to plants and animals, he
demonstrates to be the law of all evolution. This doctrine is
unfolded in the first Essay of the present volume, and is more or
less fully illustrated in the others ; but it will be found elaborately
worked out in the second part of First Principles.

The course of the discussion in this part of the work will be
best shown by enumerating the titles to the chapters, which are
as follows : I. Laws in General ; II. The Law of Evolution ; III.
The Same continued ; IV. The Causes of Evolution ; V. Space,
Time, Matter, Motion, and Force ; VI. The Indestructibility of
Matter ; VII. The Continuity of Motion ; VUUL. The Persistence
of Force ; IX. The Correlation and Equivalence of Forces ; X.
The Direction of Motion ; XI. The Khythm of Motion ; XII.
The Conditions Essential to Evolution ; XIII. The Instability of
the Homogeneous; XIV. The Multiplication of Effects; XV.
Differentiation and Integration; XVI. Equilibration; XVEL
Summary and Conclusion.

A most interesting and fruitful field of thought, it will be
Been, is here traversed by our author, and the latest and highest
questions of science are discussed under novel aspects and in new
relations. Not only do the pages abound with acute suggestions
and fresh views, but the entire argument, in its leading demon*

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. XI

itrations, and the full breadth of its philosophic scope, is stamped
with a high originality.

Having thus determined the sphere of philosophy and ascer-
tained those fundamental principles governing all orders of phe-
nomena which are to be subsequently used for guidance and veri-
fication, the author proceeds to the second work of the series,
which is devoted to Biology, or the Science of Life. He regards
life not as a foreign and unintelligible something, thrust into the
scheme of nature, of which we can know nothing save its mys-
tery, but as an essential part of the universal plan. The har-
monies of life are regarded as but phases of the universal har-
mony, and Biology is studied by the same methods as other de-
partments of science. The great truths of Physics and Chemistry
are applied to its elucidation ; its facts are collected, its induc-
tions established, and constantly verified by the first principles
laid down at the outset. Apart from its connections with the
philosophical system, of which it forms a part, this work will
have great intrinsic interest. Nothing was more needed than a
compact and well-digested statement of those general principles
of life to which science has arrived, and Mr. Spencer's presenta-
tion is proving to be just what is required. Some idea of his
mode of treating the subject may be formed by glancing over a
few of his first chapter-headings. Part First : I. Organic Matter ;
H. The Actions of Forces on Organic Matter ; HI. The Reactions
of Organic Matter on Forces ; IV. Proximate Definition of Life ;

V. The Correspondence between Life and its Circumstances

VI. The Degree of Life Varies with the Degree of Correspond-
ence ; VH. Inductions of Biology. Part Second : I. Growth ;
H. Development; HI. Function; IV. Waste and Repair; V.
Adaptation; VI. Individuality; VH. Genesis; VHI. Heredity;
IX. Variation ; X. Genesis, Heredity and Variation ; XI. Classifi-
cation; XII. Distribution.

Hi NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCER'S

In the scheme of nature Mind is ever associated with Life.
The third division of this philosophical system will therefore be
Psychology, or the Science of Mind. This great subject will be
considered, not by the narrow methods usual with metaphy-
sicians, but in its broadest aspects as a phase of nature's order —
to be studied by observation and induction through the whole
range of psychical manifestation in animated beings. The sub-
ject of mind will be regarded in the light of the great truths of
Biology previously established ; the connections of mind and life
will be traced ; the progress of mentality as exhibited in the ani-
mal grades, and the evolution of the intellectual faculties in man
will be delineated and the cooperation of mind and nature in the
production of ideas and intelligence unfolded. We have no work
upon mind of this comprehensive and thoroughly scientific char-
acter: the materials are abundant, and the necessity of their
organization is widely recognized. That Mr. Spencer is eminently
the man to perform this great task is proved by the fact that he
is already the author of the most profound and able contribu-
tion to the advancement of psychological science that has ap-
peared for many years.

In the true philosophic order, Biology and Psychology prepare
the way for the study of social science, and hence the fourth part
of Mr. Spencer's system will treat of Sociology, or the natural laws
of society. As a knowledge of individuals must precede an under-
standing of their mutual relations, so an exposition of the laws of
life and mind, which constitute the science of human nature, must
precede the successful study of social phenomena. In this part
will be considered the development of society, or that intellectual
and moral progress which depends upon the growth of human
ideas and feelings in their necessary order. The evolution of
political, ecclesiastical, and industrial organizations will be
traced, and a statement made of those principles underlying all

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. X1U

social progress, -without which there can be no successful regular
tion of the affairs of society. Mr. Spencer's mind has long been
occupied with these important questions, as the reader will find
by referring to his able work upor " Social Statics," published
several years ago.

Lastly, in Part Fifth, Mr. Spencer proposes to consider the
Principles of Morality, bringing to bear the truths furnished by
Biology, Psychology, and Sociology, to determine the true theory
of right living. He will show that the true moral ideal and limit
of progress is the attainment of an equilibrium between constitu-
tion and conditions of existence, and trace those principles of
private conduct, physical, intellectual, moral, and religious that
follow from the conditions to complete individual life. Those
rules of human action which all civilized nations have registered
as essential laws — the inductions of morality — will be delineated,
and also those mutual limitations of men's actions necessitated by
their coexistence as units of society, which constitute the founda-
tion of justice.

It cannot be doubted that the order here indicated, as it cor-
responds to the method of nature, is the one which Philosophy
must pursue in the future. It combines the precision of science
with the harmony and unity of universal truth. The time is past
when Biology can be considered with no reference to the laws of
Physics ; Mind with no reference to the science of Life, and So-
ciology, without having previously mastered the foregoing sub-
jects. The progress of knowledge is now toward more definite,
aystematic, and comprehensive views, while it is the highest func-
tion of intellect to coordinate and bind together its isolated and
fragmentary parts. In carrying out his great plan, therefore,
Mr. Spencer is but embodying the large philosophical tendencief
of the age.

Xiv NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCER'S

If it is urged that his scheme is too vast for any one man to
accomplish, it may be replied : 1st. That it is not intended to
treat the various subjects exhaustively, but only to state -general
principles with just sufficient details for their clear illustration.
2d. A considerable portion of the work is already issued, and
much more is ready for publication, while the author is still in
the prime of life. 3d. It must be remembered that intellects oc-
casionally appear, endowed with that comprehensive grasp and
high organizing power which fits them for vast undertakings.
The reader will find at the close of the volume Mr. Spencer's
Prospectus of his system. That he who has so clearly "mapped
out his work is the proper one to execute it, we think will be
fully apparent to all who peruse the present volume.

An impression prevails with many that Mr. Spencer belongs
to the positive school of M. Auguste Comte. This is an entire
misapprehension ; but the position having been assumed by sev-
eral of his reviewers, he repels the charge in the following letter,
which appeared in the New Englander for January, 1864.

To the Editor of the New Englander:

Sir: — While recognizing the appreciative tone and general
candour of the article in your last number, entitled " Herbert Spen-
cer on Ultimate Religious Ideas," allow me to point out one error
which pervades it. The writer correctly represents the leading
positions of my argument, but he inadvertently conveys a wrong
impression respecting my tendencies and sympathies. He says
of me, " the spirit of his philosophy is evidently that of the so-
called positive method which has now many partial disciples,
as well as many zealous adherents among the thinkers of Eng-
land." Further on I am tacitly classed with " the English ad-
mirers and disciples of the great Positivist ; " and it is presently
added that " in Mr. Spencer we have an example of a positivist,
who does not treat the subject of religion with supercilious neg-
lect." Here and throughout, the implication is that I am a fol-
lower of Comte. This is a mistake. That M. Comte has given a

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. X\

general exposition of the doctrine and method elaborated by
Bcience, and has applied to it a name which has obtained a certain
currency, is true. But it is not true that the holders of this doc-
trine and followers of this method are disciples of M. Comte.
Neither their modes of inquiry nor their views concerning human
knowledge in its nature and limits are appreciably different from
what they were before. If they are Positivists it is in the sense
that all men of science have been more or less consistently Posi-
tivists ; and the applicability of M. Comte's title to them no more
makes them his disciples than does its applicability to the men of
science who lived and died before M. Comte wrote, make them
his disciples.

My own attitude toward M. Comte and his partial adherents
has been all along that of antagonism. In an essay on the
" Genesis of Science," published in 1854, and republished with
other essays in 1857, 1 have endeavoured to show that his theory
of the logical dependence and historical development of the
sciences is untrue. I have still among my papers the memoranda
of a second review (for which I failed to obtain a place), the pur-
pose of which was to show the untenableness of his theory of in-
tellectual progress. The only doctrine of importance in which I
agree with him — the relativity of all knowledge — is one common to
him and sundry other thinkers of earlier date ; and even this I hold
in a different sense from that in which he held it. But on all
points that are distinctive of his philosophy, I differ from him. I
deny his Hierarchy of the Sciences. I regard his division of in-
tellectual progress into the three phases, theological, metaphysi-
cal, and positive, as superficial. I reject utterly his Religion of
Humanity. And his ideal of society I hold in detestation. Some
of his minor views I accept ; some of his incidental remarks seem
to me to be profound, but from everything which distinguishes
Comteism as a system, I dissent entirely. The only influence on
my own course of thought which I can trace to M. Comte's writings,
is the influence that results from meeting with antagonistic opin-
ions definitely expressed.

Such being my position, you will, I think, see that by classing
me as a Positivist, and tacitly including me among the English
admirers and disciples of Comte, your reviewer unintentionally
misrepresents me. I am quite ready to bear the odium attaching

tri NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENOER's

to opinions which I do hold ; but I object to have added the
odium attaching to opinions which I do not hold. If, by publish-
ing this letter in your forthcoming number, you will allow me to
set myself right with the American public on this matter, you will
greatly oblige me. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

Herbert Spencer.

We take the liberty of making an extract from a private lettei
of Mr. Spencer, which contains some further observations in the
same connection : ,

" There appears to have got abroad in the United States, a
very erroneous impression respecting the influence of Comte's
writings in England. I suppose that the currency obtained by
the words ' Positivism ' and ' Positivist,' is to blame for this.
Comte having designated by the term Positive Philosophy all
that body of definitely-established knowledge which men of
science have been gradually organizing into a coherent body of
doctrine, and having habitually placed this in opposition to the
incoherent body of doctrine defended by theologians, it has be-
come the habit of the theological party to think of the antagonist
scientific party under this title of Positivists applied to them by
Comte. And thus, from the habit of calling them Positivists
there has grown up the assumption that they call themselves Posi-
tivists, and that they are the disciples of Comte. The truth is
that Comte and his doctrines receive here scarcely any attention.
I know something of the scientific world in England, and I cannot
name a single man of science who acknowledges himself a fol-
lower of Comte, or accepts the title of Positivist. Lest, however,
there should be some such who were unknown to me, I have re-
cently made inquiries into the matter. To Professor Tyndall I
put the question whether Comte had exerted any appreciable in-
fluence on his own course of thought : and he replied, ' So far as
I know, my own course of thought would have been exactly the
same had Comte never existed.' I then asked, ' Do you know
any men of science whose views have been affected by Comte's
writings ? ' and his answer was : ' His influence on scientific
thought in England is absolutely niV To the same questions
Prof. Huxley returned, in other words, the same answers. Profes-

NEW SYSTEM OF rillLOSOPIIY. XVU

sors Huxley and Tyndall, being leaders in their respective de-
partments, and being also men of general culture and philosophic
insight, I think that, joining their impressions with my own, I am
justified in saying that the scientific world of England is wholly
uninfluenced by Comte. Such small influence as he has had here
has been on some literary men and historians — men who were at-
tracted by the grand achievements of science, who were charmed
by the plausible system of scientific generalizations put forth by
Comte, with the usual French regard for symmetry and disregard
for fact, and who were, from their want of scientific training,
unable to detect the essential fallaciousness of his system. Of
these the most notable example was the late Mr. Buckle. Besides
him, I can name but seven men who have been in any appreciable
degree influenced by Comte ; and of these, four, if not five, arc
scarcely known to the public."

Mr. Spencer's philosophical series is published by D. Appleton
& Co., New York, in quarterly parts (80 to 100 pages each), by
subscription, at two dollars a year. " First Principles'''' is issued
in one volume, and four parts of Biology have appeared. We
subjoin some notices of his philosophy from American and English
reviews.

From the National Quarterly Review (American.)

Comte thus founded social science, and opened a path for
future discoverers ; but he did not perceive, any more than pre-
vious inquirers, the fundamental law of human evolution. It was
reserved for Herbert Spencer to discover this all-comprehensive
law which is found to explain alike all the phenomena of man's
history and all those of external nature. This sublime discovery,
that the universe is in a continuous process of evolution from the
homogeneous to the heterogeneous, with which only Newton's
law of gravitation is at all worthy to be compared, underlies not
only physics, but also history. It reveals the law to which social
changes conform.

From the Christian Examiner.
Reverent and bold — reverent for truth, though not for th«

KV111 NOTICE OF HERBERT SPENCER S

forms of truth, and not for much that we hold true — bold in the
destruction of error, though without that joy in destruction which
often claims the name of boldness ; — these works are interesting
in themselves and in their relation to the current thought of the
time. They seem at first sight to form the turning point in the
positive philosophy, but closer examination shows us that it is
only a new and marked stage in a regular growth. It is the
positive philosophy reaching the higher relations of our being,
and establishing what before it ignored because it had not
reached, and by ignoring seemed to deny. This system formerly
excluded theology and psychology. In the works of Herbert Spen-
cer we have the rudiments of a positive theology and an immense
step toward the perfection of the science of psychology. * * *
Such is a brief and meagre sketch of a discussion which we
would commend to be followed in detail by every mind interested
in theological studies. Herbert Spencer comes in good faith from
what has been so long a hostile camp, bringing a flag of truce
and presenting terms of agreement meant to be honourable to
both parties: let us give him a candid hearing. * * * In
conclusion, we would remark that the work of Herbert Sp«ncer
referred to (First Principles) is not mainly theological, but will
present the latest and broadest generalizations of science, and we
would commend to our readers this author, too little known
among us, as at once one of the clearest of teachers and one of the
wisest and most honourable of opponents.

From the New Englander.

Though we find here some unwarranted assumptions, as well
as some grave omissions, yet this part (Laws of the Knowable)
may be considered, upon the whole, as a fine specimen of scien-
tific reasoning. Considerable space is devoted to the " Law of
Evolution n the discovery of which is the author's chief claim to
originality, and certainly evinces great power of generalization.
To quote the abstract definition without a full statement of the
inductions from which it is derived would convey no fair im-
pression of the breadth and strength of the thought which it
epitomizes. Of Mr. Spencer's general characteristics as a writer,
wc may observe that his style is marked by great purity, clear*

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. XIX

oess, and force ; though it is somewhat diffuse, and the abstract
nature of some of his topics occasionally renders his thought diffi-
cult of apprehension. His treatment of his subjects is generally
thorough and sometimes exhaustive; his arguments are always
ingenious if not always convincing ; his illustrations are drawn
from almost every accessible field of human knowledge, and his
method of " putting tilings " is such as to make the most of his
materials. He is undoubtedly entitled to a high rank among the
speculative and philosophic writers of the presennt day. * * *
In Mr. Spencer we have the example of a positivist, who does
not treat the subject of religion with supercilious neglect, and
who illustrates by his own method of reasoning upon the highest
objects of human thought, the value of those metaphysical studies
which it is so much the fashion of his school to decry. For both
these reasons the volume, which we now propose to examine,
deserves the careful attention of the theologian who desires to
know what one of the strongest thinkers of his school, commonly
thought atheistic in its tendencies, can say in behalf of our ulti-
mate religious ideas. For if we mistake not, in spite of the very
negative character of his own results, he has furnished some
strong arguments for the doctrine of a positive Christian theo-
logy. We shall be mistaken if we expect to find him carelessly
passing these matters by (religious faith and theological science)
as in all respects beyond knowledge and of no practical concern.
On the contrary, he gives them profound attention, and arrives
at conclusions in regard to them which even the Christian theolo-
gian must allow to contain a large measure of truth. While
showing the unsearchable nature of the ultimate facts on which
religion depends, he demonstrates their real existence and their
great importance. * * * In answering these questions Mr.
Spencer has, we think, arrived nearer to a true philosophy than
either Hamilton or Mansel. At least he has indicated in a more
satisfactory manner than they have done, the positive datum of
consciousness that the unconditioned, though inscrutable, exists.
It may be said that Mr. Spencer is not chargeable with excluding
God from the universe, or denying all revelation of Him in Hia
works, since he earnestly defends the truth that an inscrutable
power is shown to exist. We certainly would not charge him

XX NOTICE OF HEEBEET SPENCEE S

with theoretical atheism, holding as he does this ultimate reli-
gious idea.

Front the North American Review.

The law of organic development announced in the early part
of the present century, by Goethe, Schelling, and Von Baer, and
vaguely expressed in the formula, that " evolution is always from
the homogenous to the heterogeneous, and from the simple to the
complex," has recently been extended by Herbert Spencer so as
to include all phenomena whatsoever. He has shown that this
law of evolution is the law of all evolution. Whether it be in the
development of the earth or of life upon its surface, in the devel-
opment of Society, of government, of manufactures, of commerce,
of language, literature, science and art, this same advance from
the simple to the complex, through successive differentiations,
holds uniformly. The stupendous induction from all classes of
phenomena by which Mr. Spencer proceeds to establish and illus-
trate his theorem cannot be given here.

From the Christian Spectator {English).

Mr. Spencer claims for his view that it is not only a religious
position, but preeminently the religious position ; and we are most
thoroughly disposed to agree with him, though we think he does
not appreciate the force of his own argument, nor fully under-
stand his own words. For let us now attempt to realize the
meaning of this fact, of which Mr. Spencer and his compeers have
put us in possession ; let us endeavour to see whether its bearings
are really favorable or adverse to religion. They are put forward
indeed avowedly as adverse to any other religion than a mere
reverential acquiescence in ignorance concerning all that truly
exists ; but it appears to us that this supposed opposition to reli-
gion arises from the fact that the doctrine itself is so profoundly,
so intensely, so overwhelmingly religious, nay, so utterly and en-
tirely Christian, that its true meaning could not be seen for very
glory. Like Moses, when he came down from the Mount, this
positive philosophy comes with a .veil over its face, that its too
divine radiance may be hidden for a time. This is Science that
has been conversing with God, and brings in her hand His law
written on tables of stone.

NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. XX3

From tlie Reader.

To answer the question of the likelihood of the permanence
of Mr. Mill's philosophic reign, * * * we should have to take
account, among other things, of the differences from Mr. Mill
already shown by the extraordinarily able and peculiarly original
thinker whose name we have associated with Mr. Mill's at the
head of this article. We may take occasion, at another time, to
call attention to these speculations of Mr. Herbert Spencer, whose
works in the meantime, and especially that new one whose title
we have cited, we recommend to all those select readers whose
appreciation of masterly exposition, and great reach and boldness
of generalization, does not depend on their mere disposition to
agree with the doctrines propounded.

From the British Quarterly Review.

Complete in itself, it is at the same time but a part of a whole,
which, if it should be constructed in proportion, will be ten times
as great. For these First Principles are merely the foundation
of a system of philosophy, bolder, more elaborate and comprehen-
sive, perhaps, than any other which has been hitherto designed
in England. * * * Widely as it will be seen we differ from
the author on some points, we very sincerely hope he may succeed
in accomplishing the bold and magnificent project he has
mapped out.

From the Cornhill Magazine.

Our " Survey," superficial as it is, must include at least the
mention of a work so lofty in aim, and so remarkable in execu-
tion as the system of Philosophy which Mr. Herbert Spencer is
issuing to subscribers. * * * In spite of all dissidence respect-
ing the conclusions, the serious reader will applaud the profound
earnestness and thoroughness with which these conclusions are
advocated ; the universal scientific knowledge brought to bear on
them by way of illustration, and the acute and subtle thinking
displayed in every chapter.

From the Parthenon.
By these books he has wedged his way into fame in a manner
distinctly original, and curiously marked. * * * There is a

xxii notice of spencer's philosophy.

peculiar charm in this author's style, in that it sacrifices to no
common taste, while at the same time it makes the most abstruse
questions intelligible. * * * The book, if it is to be noticed
with the slightest degree of fairness, requires to be read and re-
read, to be studied apart from itself and with itself. For what-
ever may be its ultimate fate — although as the ages go on it shall
become but as the lispings of a little child, a little more educated
than other lisping children of the same time — this is certain, that,
as a book addressed to the present, it lifts the mind far above the
ordinary range of thought, suggests new associations, arranges
chaotic pictures, strikes often a broad harmony, and even moves
the heart by an intellectual struggle as passionless as fate, but as
irresistible as time.

From the Critic.

Mr. Spencer is the foremost mind of the only philosophical
school in England which has arrived at a consistent scheme
* * * Beyond this school we encounter an indolent chaotic
electicism. Mr. Spencer claims the respect due to distinct and
daring individuality ; others are echoes or slaves. Mr. Spencer
may be a usurper, but he has the voice and gesture of a king.

From the Medico- Chirurgical Review.

Mr. Spencer is equally remarkable for his search after first
principles ; for his acute attempts to decompose mental phenomena
into their primary elements ; and for his broad generalizations of
mental activity, viewed in connection with nature, instinct, and
all the analogies presented by life in its universal aspects.

EDITOR'S PREFACE

The essays contained in the present volume were
first published in the English periodicals — chiefly the
Quarterly Reviews. They contain ideas of perma-
nent interest, and display an amount of thought and
labor evidently much greater than is usually bestowed
on review articles. They were written with a view to
ultimate republication in an enduring form, and were
issued in London with several other papers, under the
title of u Essays ; Scientific, Political, and Speculative,"
first and second series ; — the former appearing in 1857,
and the latter in 1863.

The interest created in Mr. Spencer's writings by
the publication in this country of his valuable work on
" Education," and by criticisms of his other works, has
created a demand for these discussions which can only
be supplied by their republication. They are now,
however, issued in a new form, and are more suited to
develop the author's purpose in their preparation ; for

xxiv editor's peeface.

while each of these essays has its intrinsic and inde-
pendent claims upon the reader's attention, they are all
at the same time but parts of a connected and compre-
hensive argument. Nearly all of Mr. Spencer's essays
have relations more or less direct to the general doc-
trine of Evolution — a doctrine which he has probably
done more to unfold and illustrate than any other
thinker. The papers comprised in the present volume
are those which deal with the subject in its most ob-
vious and prominent aspects.

Although the argument contained in the first essay
on " Progress ; its Law and Cause," has been published
in an amplified form in the author's " First Principles,"
it has been thought best to prefix it to the present col-
lection as a key to the full interpretation of the other
essays.

To those who read this volume its commendation
will be superfluous ; we will only say that those who
become interested in his course of thought will find it
completely elaborated in his new System of Philos-
ophy, now in course of publication.

The remaining articles of Mr. Spencer's first and
second series will be shortly published, in a volume en-
titled " Essays ; Moral, Political, and JEsthetic."

New York, March, 1864.

CONTENTS.

FAOK

I. — Progress : Its Law and Cause, ... 1

II. — Manners and Fashion, 61

III. — The Genesis of Science, 116

IV. — The Physiology of Laughter, . . . . 194

V. — The Origin and Function of Music, . . .210

VI. — The Nebular Hypothesis, . . - . 239

VII. — Bain on the Emotions and the Will, . . . 288

VIII. — Illogical Geology, 313

IX. — The Development Hypothesis, .... 365

X. — The Social Organism, ..... 372

XI. — Use and Beauty, 417

XII. — The Sources of Architectural Types, . . 422

XIII. — The Use of Anthropomorphism, • . . 428

I.

PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE,

THE current conception of Progress is somewhat shift-
ing and indefinite. Sometimes it comprehends little
more than simple growth — as of a nation in the number of
its members and the extent of territory over which it has
spread. Sometimes it has reference to quantity of material
products — as when the advance of agriculture and manu-
factures is the topic. Sometimes the superior quality of
these products is contemplated : and sometimes the new or
improved appliances by which they are produced. When,
again, we speak of moral or intellectual progress, we refer
to the state of the individual or people exhibiting it ; while,
when the progress of Knowledge, of Science, of Art, ii
commented upon, we have in view certain abstract results
of human thought and action. ~Not only, however, is the
current conception of Progress more or less vague, but it
is in great measure erroneous. It takes in not so much the
reality of Progress as its accompaniments — not so much
the substance as the shadow. That progress in intelligence
seen during the growth of the child into the man, or the
uavage into the philosopher, is commonly regarded as con-
sisting in the greater number of facts known and laws

2 PEOGEESS I ITS L^W AND CAUSE.

understood : whereas the actual progress consists in those
internal modifications of which this increased knowledge
is the expression. Social progress is supposed to consist in
the produce of a greater quantity and variety of the arti-
cles required for satisfying men's wants ; in the increasing
security of person and property ; in widening freedom of
action : whereas, rightly understood, social progress con*
aists in those changes of structure in the social organism
which have entailed these consequences. The current con-
ception is a teleological one. The phenomena are contem-
plated solely as bearing on human happiness. Only those
changes are held to constitute progress which directly or
indirectly tend to heighten human happiness. And they
are thought to constitute progress simply because they tend
to heighten human happiness. But rightly to understand
xrogress, we must inquire what is the nature of these
changes, considered apart from our interests. Ceasing, for
example, to regard the successive geological modifications
that have taken place in the Earth, as modifications that
have gradually fitted it for the habitation of Man, and as
therefore a geological progress, we must seek to determine
the character common to these modifications — the law to
which they all conform. And similarly in every other case.
Leaving out of sight concomitants and beneficial conse-
quences, let us ask what Progress is in itself.

In respect to that progress which individual organisms
display in the course of their evolution, this question has
been answered by the Germans. The investigations of
Wolff, Goethe, and Yon Baer, have established the truth
that the series of changes gone through during the devel-
opment of a seed into a tree, or an ovum into an animal,
constitute an advance from homogeneity of structure to
heterogeneity of structure. In its primary stage, every
germ consists of a substance that is uniform throughout,
both in texture and chemical composition. The first step

IN WHAT PROGRESS CONSISTS. 3

is the appearance of a difference between two parts of this
substance ; or, as the phenomenon is called in physiological
language, a differentiation. Each of these differentiated
divisions presently begins itself to exhibit some contrast of
parts ; and by and by these secondary differentiations be-
come as definite as the original one. This process is con-
tinuously repeated — is simultaneously going on in all parts
of the growing embryo ; and by endless such differentia-
tions there is finally produced that complex combination of
tissues and organs constituting the adult animal or plant.
This is the history of all organisms whatever. It is settled
beyond dispute that organic progress consists in a change
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous.

Now, we propose in the first place to show, that this
law of organic progress is the law of all progress. Whether
it be in the development of the Earth, in the development
of Life upon its surface, in the development of Society, of
Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of Language,
Literature, Science, Art, this same evolution of the simple
into the complex, through successive differentiations, holds
throughout. From the earliest traceable cosmical changes
down to the latest results of civilization, we shall find that
the transformation of the homogeneous into the heteroge-
neous, is that in which Progress essentially consists.

"With the view of showing that if the Nebular Hypoth-
esis be true, the genesis of the solar system supplies one
illustration of this law, let us assume that the matter of
which the sun and planets consist was once in a diffused
form ; and that from the gravitation of its atoms there
resulted a gradual concentration. By the hypothesis, the
solar system in its nascent state existed as an indefinitely
extended and nearly homogeneous medium — a medium
almost homogeneous in density, in temperature, and in
other physical attributes. The first advance towards con-
solidation resulted in a differentiation between the occupied

4 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

Bpace which the nebulous mass still filled, and the unoccu*
pied space which it previously filled. There simultaneously
resulted a contrast in density and a contrast in tempera-
ture, between the interior and the exterior of this mass.
And at the same time there arose throughout it rotatory
movements, whose velocities varied according to their dis-
tances from its centre. These differentiations increased in
number and degree until there was evolved the organized
group of sun, planets, and satellites, which we now know —
a group which presents numerous contrasts of structure
and action among its members. There are the immense
contrasts between the sun and planets, in bulk and in
weight ; as well as the subordinate contrasts between one
planet and another, and between the planets and their sat-
ellites. There is the similarly marked contrast between
the sun as almost stationary, and the planets as moving
round him with great velocity ; while there are the sec-
ondary contrasts between the velocities and periods of the
several planets, and between their simple revolutions and
the double ones of their satellites, which have to move
round their primaries while moving round the sun. There
is the yet further strong contrast between the sun and the
planets in respect of temperature ; and there is reason to
suppose that the planets and satellites differ from each
other in their proper heat, as well as in the heat they re-
ceive from the sun.

When we bear in mind that, in addition to these various
contrasts, the planets and satellites also differ in respect to
their distances from each other and their primary ; in respect
to the inclinations of their orbits, the inclinations of their
axes, their times of rotation on their axes, their specific grav-
ities, and their physical constitutions ; we see what a high
degree of heterogeneity the solar system exhibits, when
compared with the almost complete homogeneity of the
nebulous mass out of which it is supposed to have originated,

GEOLOGICAL PROGRESS OF THE EARTH. 5

Passing from this hypothetical illustration, which must
be taken for what it is worth, without prejudice to the
general argument, let us descend to a more certain order
of evidence. It is now generally agreed among geologists
that the Earth was at first a mass of molten matter ; and
that it is still fluid and incandescent at the distance of a few
miles beneath its surface. Originally, then, it was homo-
geneous in consistence, and, in virtue of the circulation
that takes place in heated fluids, must have been compara-
tively homogeneous in temperature ; and it must have been
surrounded by an atmosphere consisting partly of the ele-
ments of air and water, and partly of those various other
elements which assume a gaseous form at high tempera-
tures. That slow cooling by radiation which is still going
on at an inappreciable rate, and which, though originally
far more rapid than now, necessarily required an immense
time to produce any decided change, must ultimately have
resulted in the solidification of the portion most able to
part with its heat — namely, the surface. In the thin crust
thus formed we have the first marked differentiation. A still
further cooling, a consequent thickening of this crust, and an
accompanying deposition of all solidifiable elements con
tained in the atmosphere, must finally have been followed
by the condensation of the water previously existing as
vapour. A second marked differentiation must thus have
arisen : and as the condensation must have taken place on
the coolest parts of the surface — namely, about the poles —
there must thus have resulted the first geographical dis-
tinction of parts. To these illustrations of growing hete-
rogeneity, which, though deduced from the known laws of
matter, may be regarded as more or less hypothetical,
Geology adds an extensive series that have been inductively
established. Its investigations show that the Earth has
been continually becoming more heterogeneous in virtue
of the multiplication of the strata which form its crust ;

O PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

further, that it has been becoming more heterogeneous, in
respect of the composition of these strata, the latter of
which, being made from the detritus of the older ones, are
many of them rendered highly complex by the mixture of
materials they contain ; and that this heterogeneity has
been vastly increased by the action of the Earth's still
molten nucleus upon its envelope, whence have resulted
not only a great variety of igneous rocks, but the tilting
up of sedimentary strata at all angles, the formation of
faults and metallic veins, the production of endless disloca-
tions and irregularities. Yet again, geologists teach us
that the Earth's surface has been growing more varied in
elevation — that the most ancient mountain systems are the
smallest, and the Andes and Himalayas the most modern ;
while in all probability there have been corresponding
changes in the bed of the ocean. As a consequence of
these ceaseless differentiations, we now find that no consid-
erable portion of the Earth's exposed surface is like any
other portion, either in contour, in geologic structure, or
in chemical composition ; and that in most parts it changes
from mile to mile in all these characteristics.

Moreover, it must not be forgotten that there has been
simultaneously going on a gradual differentiation of climates.
As fast as the Earth cooled and its crust solidified, there arose
appreciable differences in temperature between those parts
of its surface most exposed to the sun and those less exposed.
Gradually, as the cooling progressed, these differences be-
came more pronounced ; until there finally resulted those
marked contrasts between regions of perpetual ice and
snow, regions where winter and summer alternately reign
for periods varying according to the latitude, and regions
where summer follows summer with scarcely an appreciable
variation. At the same time the successive elevations and
subsidences of different portions of the Earth's crust, tend-
ing as they have done to the present irregular distribution

PROGRESS OF TERRESTRIAL LIFE 7

of land and sea, have entailed various modifications of cli-
mate beyond those dependent on latitude ; while a yet fur*
ther series of such modifications have been produced by
increasing differences of elevation in the land, which have
in sundry places brought arctic, temperate, and tropical
climates to within a few miles of each other. And the
general result of these changes is, that not only has every
extensive region its own meteorologic conditions, but that
every locality in each region differs more or less from oth-
ers in those conditions, as in its structure, its contour, its
soil. Thus, between our existing Earth, the phenomena of
whose varied crust neither geographers, geologists, miner-
alogists, nor meteorologists have yet enumerated, and the
molten globe out of which it was evolved, the contrast in
heterogeneity is sufficiently striking.

When from the Earth itself we lurn to the plants and
animals that have lived, or still live, upon its surface, we
find ourselves in some difficulty from lack of facts. That
every existing organism has been developed out of the
simple into the complex, is indeed the first established
truth of all ; and that every organism that has existed was
similarly developed, is an inference which no physiologist
will hesitate to draw. But when we pass from individual
forms of life to Life in general, and inquire whether the
same law is seen in the ensemble of its manifestations, —
wnether modern plants and animals are of more hetero-
geneous structure than ancient ones, and whether the
Earth's present Flora and Fauna are more heterogeneous
than the Flora and Fauna of the past, — we find the evi-
dence so fragmentary, that every conclusion is open to
dispute. Two-thirds of the Earth's surface being covered
by water ; a great part of the exposed land being inaccess-
ible to, or untravelled by, the geologist ; the greater part
of the remainder having been scarcely more than glanced
at ; and even the most familiar portions, as England, hav-

8 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

mg been so imperfectly explored that a new series of strata
has been added within these four years, — it is manifestly
impossible for us to say with any certainty what creatures
have, and what have not, existed at any particular period.
Considering the perishable nature of many of the lower
organic forms, the metamorphosis of many sedimentary
strata, and the gaps that occur among the rest, we shall
see further reason for distrusting our deductions. On the
one hand, the repeated discovery of vertebrate remains in
strata previously supposed to contain none,— of reptiles
where only fish were thought to exist, — of mammals where
it was believed there were no creatures higher than rep-
tiles,-—renders it daily more manifest how small is the
value of negative evidence.

On the other hand, the worthlessness of the assumption
that we have discovered the earliest, or anything like the
earliest, organic remains, is becoming equally clear. That
the oldest known sedimentary rocks have been greatly
changed by igneous action, and that still older ones have
been totally transformed by it, is becoming undeniable.
And the fact that sedimentary strata earlier than any we
know, have been melted up, being admitted, it must also
be admitted that we cannot say how far back in time this
destruction of sedimentary strata has been going on. Thus
it is manifest that the title, Palaeozoic, as applied to the
earliest known fossiliferous strata, involves a petitio princi-
pii / and that, for aught we know to the contrary, only the
last few chapters of the Earth's biological history may have
come down to us. On neither side, therefore, is the evi-
dence conclusive. Nevertheless we cannot but think that,
scanty as they are, the facts, taken altogether, tend to show
both that the more heterogeneous organisms have been
evolved in the later geologic periods, and that Life in
general has been more heterogeneously manifested as time
has advanced. Let us cite, in illustration, the one case of

ADVANCE OF THE ANIMAL RACES. 9

the vertebrata. The earliest known vertebrate remains, are
those of Fishes ; and Fishes are the most homogeneous of
the vertebrata. Later and more heterogeneous are Rep-
tiles. Later still, and more heterogeneous still, are Mam-
mals and Birds. If it be said, as it may fairly be said, that
the Palaeozoic deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not
likely to contain the remains of terrestrial vertebrata, which
may nevertheless have existed at that era, we reply that we
are merely pointing to the leading facts, such as they are.
But to avoid any such criticism, let us take the mam-
malian subdivision only. The earliest known remains of
mammals are those of small marsupials, which are the low-
est of the mammalian type ; while, conversely, the highest
of the mammalian type — Man — is the most recent. The
evidence that the vertebrate fauna, as a whole, has become
more heterogeneous, is considerably stronger. To the
argument that the vertebrate fauna of the Palaeozoic period,
consisting, so far as we know, entirely of Fishes, was less
heterogeneous than the modern vertebrate fauna, which
includes Reptiles, Birds, and Mammals, of multitudinous
genera, it may be replied, as before, that estuary deposits
of the Palaeozoic period, could we find them, might contain
other orders of vertebrata. But no such reply can be made
to the argument that whereas the marine vertebrata of the
Palaeozoic period consisted entirely of cartilaginous fishes,
the marine vertebrata of later periods include numerous
genera of osseous fishes ; and that, therefore, the later
marine vertebrate faunas are more heterogeneous than the
oldest known one. Nor, again, can any such reply be made
to the fact that there are far more numerous orders and
genera of mammalian remains in the tertiary formations than
in the secondary formations. Did we wisl» merely to make
out the best case, we might dwell upon the opinion of Dr.
Carpenter, who says that " the general facts of Palaeontol-
ogy appear to sanction the belief, that the same plan may

LO PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

be traced out in what may be called the general life of the
globe, as in the individual life of every one of the forms of
organized being which now people it." Or we might quote,
as decisive, the judgment of Professor Owen, who holds
that the earlier examples of each group of creatures sever-
ally departed less widely from archetypal generality than
the later ones — were severally less unlike the fundamental
form common to the group as a whole ; that is to say —
constituted a less heterogeneous group of creatures ; and
who further upholds the doctrine of a biological progres-
sion. But in deference to an authority for whom we have
the highest respect, who considers that the evidence at
present obtained does not justify a verdict either way, we
are content to leave the question open.

Whether an advance from the homogeneous to the
heterogeneous is or is not displayed in the biological his-
tory of the globe, it is clearly enough displayed in the
progress of the latest and most heterogeneous creature —
Man. It is alike true that, during the period in which the
Earth has been peopled, the human organism has grown
more heterogeneous among the civilized divisions of the
species ; and that the species, as a whole, has been grow-
ing more heterogeneous in virtue of the multiplication of
races and the differentiation of these races from each
other.

In proof of the first of these positions, we may cite
the fact that, in the relative development of the limbs, the
civilized man departs more widely from the general type
of the placental mammalia than do the lower human races.
While often possessing well-developed body and arms, the
Papuan has extremely small legs : thus reminding us of
the quadrumana, in which there is no great contrast in
size between the hind and fore limbs. But in the Eu-
ropean, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has
become very marked — the fore and hind limbs are rela-

DEVELOPMENT OF THE CIVILIZED RACES. 11

lively more heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio
which the cranial bones bear to the facial bones illustrates
the same truth. Among the vertebrata in general, pro-
gress is marked by an increasing heterogeneity in the verte-
bral column, and more especially in the vertebrae constitut-
ing the skull : the higher forms being distinguished by the
relatively larger size of the bones which cover the brain,
and the relatively smaller size of those which form the
jaw, &c. Now, this characteristic, which is stronger in
Man than in any other creature, is stronger in the European
than in the savage. Moreover, judging from the greater
extent and variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer that
the civilized man has also a more complex or hetero-
geneous nervous system than the uncivilized man : and
indeed the fact is in part visible in the increased ratio
which his cerebrum bears to the subjacent ganglia.

If further elucidation be needed, we may find it in every
nursery. The infant European has sundry marked points
of resemblance to the lower human races ; as in the flat-
ness of the alae of the nose, the depression of its bridge,
the divergence and forward opening of the nostrils, the
form of the lips, the absence of a frontal sinus, the width
between the eyes, the smallness of the legs. Now, as the
developmental process by which these traits are turned into
those of the adult European, is a continuation of that
change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous dis-
played during the previous evolution of the embryo, which
every physiologist will admit ; it follows that the parallel
developmental process by which the like traits of the bar-
barous races have been turned into those of the civilized
races, has also been a continuation of the change from
the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the
second position — that Mankind, as a whole, have become
more heterogeneous — is so obvious as scarcely to need
illustration. Every work on Ethnology, by its divisions

12 PEOGEESS I ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

BiicT subdivisions of races, bears testimony to it. Even
were we to admit the hypothesis that Mankind originated
from several separate stocks, it would still remain true,
that as, from each of these stocks, there have sprung many
now widely different tribes, which are proved by philologi-
cal evidence to have had a common origin, the race as a
whole is far less homogeneous than it once was. Add to
which, that we have, in the Anglo-Americans, an example
of a new variety arising within these few generations ;
and that, if we may trust to the description of observers,
we are likely soon to have another such example in Aus-
tralia.

On passing from Humanity under its individual form, to
Humanity as socially embodied, we find the general law still
more variously exemplified. The change from the homo-
geneous to the heterogeneous is displayed equally in the
progress of civilization as a whole, and in the progress of
every tribe or nation ; and is still going on with increasing
rapidity. As we see in existing barbarous tribes, society
in its first and lowest form is a homogeneous aggregation
of individuals having like powers and like functions : the
only marked difference of function being that which accom-
panies difference of sex. Every man is warrior, hunter,
fisherman, tool-maker, builder ; every woman performs
the same drudgeries ; every family is self-sufficing, and save
for purposes of aggression and defence, might as well live
apart from the rest. Very early, however, in the process
of social evolution, we find an incipient differentiation be-
tween the governing and the governed. Some kind of
chieftainship seems coeval with the first advance from the
state of separate wandering families to that of a nomadic
tribe. The authority of the strongest makes itself felt
among a body of savages as in a herd of animals, or a
posse of schoolboys. At first, however, it is indefinite, un-
certain ; is shared by others of scarcely inferior power ;

EARLY EVOLUTION OF GOVERNMENTS. 13

and is unaccompanied by any difference in occupation or
style of living : the first ruler kills his own ganie, makes
his own weapons, builds his own hut, and economically con-
sidered, does not differ from others of his tribe. Gradual-
ly, as the tribe progresses, the contrast between the gov-
erning and the governed grows more decided. Supreme
power becomes hereditary in one family ; the head of that
family, ceasing to provide for his own wants, is served by
others ; and he begins to assume the sole office of ruling.

At the same time there has been arising a co-ordinate
species of government — that of Religion. As all ancient re-
cords and traditions prove, the earliest rulers are regarded as
divine personages. The maxims and commands they uttered
during their lives are held sacred after their deaths, and are
enforced by their divinely-descended successors ; who in
their turns are promoted to the pantheon of the race, there
to be worshipped and propitiated along with their prede-
cessors : the most ancient of whom is the supreme god, and
the rest subordinate gods. For a long time these connate
forms of government — civil and religious — continue closely
associated. For many generations the king continues to
be the chief priest, and the priesthood to be members of
the royal race. For many ages religious law continues to
contain more or less of civil regulation, and civil law to
possess more or less of religious sanction ; and even among
the most advanced nations these two controlling agencies
are by no means completely differentiated from each other.

Having a common root with these, and gradually diverg-
ing from them, we find yet another controlling agency—that of
Manners or ceremonial usages. All titles of honour are
originally the names of the god-king ; afterwards of God
and the king ; still later of persons of high rank ; and fin-
ally come, some of them, to be used between man and man.
All forms of complimentary address were at first the ex-
pressions of submission from prisoners to their conqueror

14 PEOGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

or from subjects to their ruler, either human or divine-
expressions that were afterwards used to propitiate subor-
dinate authorities, and slowly descended into ordinary inter-
course. All modes of salutation were once obeisances made
before the monarch and used in worship of him after his
death. Presently others of the god-descended race were sim-
ilarly saluted ; and by degrees some of the salutations have
become the due of all.* Thus, no sooner does the originally
homogeneous social mass differentiate into the governed and
the governing parts, than this last exhibits an incipient dif-
ferentiation into religious and secular — Church and State ;
while at the same time there begins to be differentiated
from both, that less definite species of government which
rules our daily intercourse — a species of government which,
as we may see in heralds' colleges, in books of the peerage,
in masters of ceremonies, is not without a certain embodi-
ment of its own. Each of these is itself subject to succes-
sive differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as
among ourselves, a highly complex political organization of
monarch, ministers, lords and commons, with their subor-
dinate administrative departments, courts of justice, reve-
nue offices, &c, supplemented in the provinces by munici-
pal governments, county governments, parish or union gov-
ernments— all of them more or less elaborated. By its side
there grows up a highly complex religious organization,
with its various grades of officials, from archbishops down
to sextons, its colleges, convocations, ecclesiastical courts,
&c. ; to all which must be added the ever multiplying inde-
pendent sects, each with its general and local authorities.
And at the same time there is developed a highly complex
aggregation of customs, manners, and temporary fashions,
enforced by society at large, and serving to control those

* For detailed proof of these assertions see essay on Manners ana
Fashion.

INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENT. 15

minor transactions between man and man which are not reg-
ulated by civil and religious law. Moreover it is to be ob-
served that this ever increasing heterogeneity in the gov-
ernmental appliances of each nation, has been accompanied
by an increasing heterogeneity in the governmental appli-
ances of different nations ; all of which are more or less
unlike in their political systems and legislation, in their
creeds and religious institutions, in their customs and cere-
monial usages.

Simultaneously there has been going on a second dif-
ferentiation of a more familiar kind ; that, namely, by
which the mass of the community has been segregated into
distinct classes and orders of workers. While the govern-
ing part has undergone the complex development above
detailed, the governed part has undergone an equally com-
plex development, which has resulted in that minute divis-
ion of labour characterizing advanced nations. It is need-
less to trace out this progress from its first stages, up
through the caste divisions of the East and the incorporat-
ed guilds of Europe, to the elaborate producing and dis-
tributing organization existing among ourselves. Political
economists have long since described the evolution which,
beginning with a tribe whose members severally perform
the same actions each for himself, ends with a civilized com-
munity whose members severally perform different actions
for each other ; and they have further pointed out the
changes through which the solitary producer of any one
commodity is transformed into a combination of producers
who, united under a master, take separate parts in the man-
ufacture of such commodity. But there are yet other and
higher phases of this advance from the homogeneous to the
heterogeneous in the industrial organization of society.

Long after considerable progress has been made in the di-
vision of labour among different classes of workers, there
is still little or no division of labour among the widely sep

16 progress: its law and cause.

arated parts of the community ; the nation continues com-
paratively homogeneous in the respect that in each district
the same occupations are pursued. But when roads and
other means of transit become numerous and good, the dif-
ferent districts begin to assume different functions, and to
become mutually dependent. The calico manufacture lo-
cates itself in this county, the woollen-cloth manufacture in
that ; silks are produced here, lace there ; stockings in one
place, shoes in another ; pottery, hardware, cutlery, come
to have their special towns ; and ultimately every locality
becomes more or less distinguished from the rest by the
leading occupation carried on in it. Nay, more, this sub-
division of functions shows itself not only among the differ-
ent parts of the same nation, but among different nations.
That exchange of commodities which free-trade promises
so greatly to increase, will ultimately have the effect of
specializing, in a greater or less degree, the industry of
each people. So that beginning with a barbarous tribe,
almost if not quite homogeneous in the functions of its
members, the progress has been, and still is, towards an
economic aggregation of the whole human race ; growing
ever more heterogeneous in respect of the separate func-
tions assumed by separate nations, the separate functions
assumed by the local sections of each nation, the separate
functions assumed by the many kinds of makers and traders
in each town, and the separate functions assumed by the
workers united in producing each commodity.

Not only is the law thus clearly exemplified in the evo
lution of the social organism, but it is exemplified with equal
clearness in the evolution of all products of human thought
and action, whether concrete or abstract, real or ideal. Let
us take Language as our first illustration.

The lowest form of language is the exclamation, by
which an entire idea is vaguely conveyed through a single
Bound ; as among the lower animals. That human language

DEVELOPMENT OF LANGUAGE. 17

ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so was strictly ho-
mogeneous in respect of its parts of speech, we have no evi-
dence. But that language can be traced down to a form
in which nouns and verbs are its only elements, is an estab-
lished fact. In the gradual multiplication of parts of speech
out of these primary ones — in the differentiation of verb?
into active and passive, of nouns into abstract and concrete
— in the rise of distinctions of mood, tense, person, of num-
ber and case — in the formation of auxiliary verbs, of adjec-
tives, adverbs, pronouns, prepositions, articles — in the di-
vergence of those orders, genera, species, and varieties of
parts of speech by which civilized races express minute
modifications of meaning — we see a change from the homo-
geneous to the heterogeneous. And it may be remarked,
in passing, that it is more especially in virtue of having
carried this subdivision of function to a greater extent and
completeness, that the English language is superior to all
others.

Another aspect under which we may trace the devel-
opment of language is the differentiation of words of
allied meanings. Philology early disclosed the truth that
in all languages words may be grouped into families having
a common ancestry. An aboriginal name applied indiscrim-
inately to each of an extensive and ill-defined class of things
or actions, presently undergoes modifications by which the
chief divisions of the class are expressed. These several
names springing from the primitive root, themselves become
the parents of other names still further modified. And by
the aid of those systematic modes which presently arise,
of making derivations and forming compound terms ex-
pressing still smaller distinctions, there is finally developed
a tribe of words so heterogeneous in sound and meaning,
that to the uninitiated it seems incredible that they should
have had a common origin. Meanwhile from other roots
there are being evolved other such tribes, until there r<*«

1 8 PROGRESS I ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

suits a language of some sixty thousand 01 more unlike
words, signifying as many unlike objects, qualities, acts.

Yet another way in which language in general advances
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is in the mul
tiplication of languages. Whether as Max Muller and Bun-
sen think, all languages have grown from one stock, or
whether, as some philologists say, they have grown from
two or more stocks, it is clear that since large families of
languages, as the Indo-European, are of one parentage,
they have become distinct through a process of continuous
divergence. The same diffusion over the Earth's surface
which has led to the differentiation of the race, has simulta-
neously led to a differentiation of their speech : a truth
which we see further illustrated in each nation by the pecu-
liarities of dialect found in several districts. Thus the pro-
gress of Language conforms to the general law, alike in the
evolution of languages, in the evolution of families of words,
and in the evolution of parts of speech.

On passing from spoken to written language, we come
upon several classes of facts, all having similar implications.
Written language is connate with Painting and Sculpture ;
and at first all three are appendages of Architecture, and
have a direct connection with the primary form of all Gov-
ernment— the theocratic. Merely noting by the way the
fact that sundry wild races, as for example the Australians
and the tribes of South Africa, are given to depicting per-
sonages and events upon the walls of caves, which are prob-
ably regarded as sacred places, let us pass to the case of
the Egyptians. Among them, as also among- the Assyrians,
we find mural paintings used to decorate the temple of the
god and the palace of the king (which were, indeed, origi-
nally identical) ; and as such they were governmental appli-
ances in the same sense that state -pageants and religious
feasts were. Further, they were governmental appliances
in virtue of representing the worship of the god, the trl

PICTOR[AL GERMS OF LANGUAGE. 19

nmphs of the god-king, the submission of his subjects, and
the punishment of the rebellious. And yet again they were
governmental, as being the products of an art reverenced
by the people as a sacred mystery. From the habitual use
of this pictorial representation there naturally grew up the
but slightly-modified practice of picture-writing — a practice
which was found still extant among the Mexicans at the time
they were discovered. By abbreviations analogous to those
still going on in our own written and spoken language, the
most familiar of these pictured figures were successively sim-
plified ; and ultimately there grew up a system of symbols,
most of which had but a distant resemblance to the things
for which they stood. The inference that the hieroglyphics
of the Egyptians were thus produced, is confirmed by the
fact that the picture-writing of the Mexicans was found to
have given birth to a like family of ideographic forms ; and
among them, as among the Egyptians, these had been par-
tially differentiated into the Jcuriological or imitative, and
the tropical or symbolic : which were, however, used to-
gether in the same record. In Egypt, written language
underwent a further differentiation : whence resulted the
hieratic and the epistolo graphic or enchorial : both of which
are derived from the original hieroglyphic. At the same
time we find that for the expression of proper names which
could not be otherwise conveyed, phonetic symbols were
employed ; and though it is alleged that the Egyptians
never actually achieved complete alphabetic writing, yet it
can scarcely be doubted that these phonetic symbols occa-
sionally used in aid of their ideographic ones, were the
germs out of which alphabetic writing grew. Once having
become separate from hieroglyphics, alphabetic writing it-
self underwent numerous differentiations — multiplied alpha-
bets were produced; between most of which, however, mere
or less connection can still be traced. And m each civil-
ized nation there has now grown up, for the representation

20 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

of one set of sounds, several sets of written signs used for
distinct purposes. Finally, through a yet more important
differentiation came printing ; which, uniform in kind as it
was at first, has since become multiform.

"While written language was passing through its earlier
stages of development, the mural decoration which formed
its root was being differentiated into Painting and Sculp-
ture. The gods, kings, men, and animals represented, were
originally marked by indented outlines and coloured. In
most cases these outlines were of such depth, and the ob-
ject they circumscribed so far rounded and marked out in
its leading parts, as to form a species of work intermediate
between intaglio and bas-relief. In other cases we see an
advance upon this : the raised spaces between the figures
being chiselled off, and the figures themselves appropriately
tinted, a painted bas-relief was produced. The restored
Assyrian architecture at Sydenham exhibits this style of
art carried to greater perfection — the persons and things
represented, though still barbarously coloured, are carved
out with more truth and in greater detail : and in the
winged lions and bulls used for the angles of gateways, we
may see a considerable advance towards a completely
sculptured figure ; which, nevertheless, is still coloured,
and still forms part of the building. But while in Assyria
the production of a statue proper seems to have been lit-
tle, if at all, attempted, we may trace in Egyptian art the
gradual separation of the sculptured figure from the wall.
A walk through the collection in the British Museum will
clearly show this ; while it will at the same time afford an
opportunity of observing the evident traces which the inde-
pendent statues bear of their derivation from bas-relief:
seeing that nearly all of them not only display that union
of the limbs with the body which is the characteristic of
bas-relief, but have the back of the statue united from
head to foot with a block which stands in place of the

ORIGIN OF CHRISTIAN ART. 21

original wall. Greece repeated the leading 6tages of this
progress. As in Egypt and Assyria, these twin arts were
at first united with each other and with their parent, Archi-
tecture, and were the aids of Religion and Government.
On the friezes of Greek temples, we see coloured bas-reliefs
representing sacrifices, battles, processions, games — all in
some sort religious. On the pediments we see painted
sculptures more or less united with the tympanum, and
having for subjects the triumphs of gods or heroes. Even
when we come to statues that are definitely separated from
the buildings to which they pertain, we still find them
coloured ; and only in the later periods of Greek civiliza-
tion does the differentiation of sculpture from painting
appear to have become complete.

In Christian art we may clearly trace a parallel re-gene-
sis. All early paintings and sculptures throughout Europe
were religious in subject — represented Christs, crucifixions,
virgins, holy families, apostles, saints. They formed inte-
gral parts of church architecture, and were among the
means of exciting worship ; as in Roman Catholic countries
they still are. Moreover, the early sculptures of Christ on
the cross, of virgins, of saints, were coloured : and it needs
but to call to mind the painted madonnas and crucifixes
still abundant in continental churches and highways, to
perceive the significant fact that painting and sculpture
continue in closest connection with each other where they
continue in closest connection with their parent. Even
when Christian sculpture was pretty clearly differentiated
from painting, it was still religious and governmental in its
subjects — was used for tombs in churches and statues of
kings : while, at the same time, painting, where not purely
ecclesiastical, was applied to the decoration of palaces, and
besides representing royal personages, was almost wholly
devoted to sacred legends. Only in quite recent times
have painting and sculpture become entirely secular arts.

22 PROGRESS .* ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

Only within these few centuries has painting been divided
into historical, landscape, marine, architectural, genre, ani-
mal, still-life, &c, and sculpture grown heterogeneouj in
respect of the variety of real and ideal subjects with which
it occupies itself.

Strange as it seems then, we find it no less true, that
all forms of written language, of painting, and of sculp-
ture, have a common root in the politico-religious decora-
tions of ancient temples and palaces. Little resemblance
as they now have, the bust that stands on the console, the
landscape that hangs against the wall, and the copy of the
Times lying upon the table, are remotely akin ; not only
in nature, but by extraction. The brazen face of the
knocker which the postman has just lifted, is related not
only. to the woodcuts of the Illustrated London .News
which he is delivering, but to the characters of the billet-
doux which accompanies it. Between the painted window,
the pi'ayer-book on which its light falls, and the adjacent
monument, there is consanguinity. The effigies on our
coins, the signs over shops, the figures that fill every ledger,
the coats of arms outside the carriage panel, and the pla-
cards inside the omnibus, are, in common with dolls, blue-
books, paper-hangings, lineally descended from the rude
sculpture-paintings in which the Egyptians represented the
triumphs and worship of their god-kings. Perhaps no
example can be given which more vividly illustrates the
multiplicity and heterogeneity of the products that in
course of time may arise by successive differentiations from
a common stock.

Before passing to other classes of facts, it should be
observed that the evolution of the homogeneous into the
heterogeneous is displayed not only in the separation of
Painting and Sculpture from Architecture and from each
other, and in the greater variety of subjects they embody,
but it is further shown in the structure of each work. A

EVOLUTION OF TAINTING AND STATUARY. 23

modern picture or statue is of far more heterogeneous
nature than an ancient one. An Egyptian sculpture-fresco
represents all its figures as on one plane — that is, at the
same distance from the eye ; and so is less heterogeneous
than a painting that represents them as at various distances
from the eye. It exhibits all objects as exposed to the
same degree of light ; and so is less heterogeneous than a
painting which exhibits different objects and different parts
of each object as in different degrees of light. It uses
scarcely any but the primary colours, and these in their
full intensity ; and so is less heterogeneous than a painting
which, introducing the primary colours but sparingly, em-
ploys an endless variety of intermediate tints, each of hete-
rogeneous composition, and differing from the rest not only
in quality but in intensity. Moreover, we see in these ear-
liest works a great uniformity of conception. The same
arrangement of figures is perpetually reproduced — the
same actions, attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the modes
of representation were so fixed that it was sacrilege to
introduce a novelty ; and indeed it could have been only
in consequence of a fixed mode of representation that a
system of hieroglyphics became possible. The Assyrian
bas-reliefs display parallel characters. Deities, kings, at-
tendants, winged figures and animals, are severally depicted
in like positions, holding like implements, doing like things,
and with like expression or non-expression of face. If a
palm-grove is introduced, all the trees are of the same
height, have the same number of leaves, and are equidis-
tant. When water is imitated, each wave is a counterpart
of the rest ; and the fish, almost always of one kind, are
evenly distributed over the surface. The beards of the
kings, the gods, and the winged figures, are everywhere
similar : as are the manes of the lions, and equally so those
of the horses. Hair is represented throughout by one form

of curl. The king's beard is quite architecturally built
o

24 PEOGEESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

up of sompound tiers of uniform curls, alternating with
twisted tiers placed in a transverse direction, and arranged
with perfect regularity ; and the terminal tufts of the bulls*
tails are represented in exactly the same manner. With-
out tracing out analogous facts in early Christian art, in
which, though less striking, they are still visible, the ad-
yance in heterogeneity will be sufficiently manifest on
remembering that in the pictures of our own day the com-
position is endlessly varied ; the attitudes, faces, expres-
sions, unlike ; the subordinate objects different in size, form,
position, texture ; and more or less of contrast even in the
smallest details. Or, if we compare an Egyptian statue,
seated bolt upright on a block, with hands on knees, fin-
gers outspread and parallel, eyes looking straight forward,
and the two sides perfectly symmetrical in every particu-
lar, with a statue of the advanced Greek or the modern
school, which is asymmetrical in respect of the position of
the head, the body, the limbs, the arrangement of the hair,
dress, appendages, and in its relations to neighbouring
objects, we shall see the change from the homogeneous to
the heterogeneous clearly manifested.

In the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of
Poetry, Music and Dancing, we have another series of illus-
trations. Rhythm in speech, rhythm in sound, and rhythm
in motion, were in the beginning parts of the same thing,
and have only in process of time become separate things.
Among various existing barbarous tribes we find them still
united. The dances of savages are accompanied by some
kind of monotonous chant, the clapping of hands, the strik-
ing of rude instruments : there are measured movements,
measured words, and measured tones; and the whole cere-
mony, usually having reference to war or sacrifice, is of
governmental character. In the early records of the his-
toric races we similarly find these three forms of metrical
action united in religious festivals. In the Hebrew writings

EVOLUTION OF MUSIC AND POETRV. 25

we read that the triumphal ode composed by Moses on the
defeat of the Egyptians, was sung to an accompaniment of
dancing and timbrels. The Israelites danced and sung " at
the inauguration of the golden calf. And as it is generally
agreed that this representation of the Deity was borrowed
from the mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the dancing
was copied from that of the Egyptians on those occasions."
There was an annual dance in Shiloh on the sacred festival ;
and David danced before the ark. Again, in Greece the
like relation is everywhere seen : the original type being
there, as probably in other cases, a simultaneous chanting
and mimetic representation of the life and adventures of
the god. The Spartan dances were accompanied by hymns
and songs ; and in general the Greeks had " no festivals or
religious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs
and dances " — both of them being forms of worship used
before altars. Among the Romans, too, there were sacred
dances : the Salian and Lupercalian being named as of
that kind. And even in Christian countries, as at Limoges,
in comparatively recent times, the people have danced in
the choir in honour of a saint. The incipient separation
of these once united arts from each other and from reli-
gion, was early visible in Greece. Probably diverging from
dances partly religious, partly warlike, as the Corybantian,
came the war dances proper, of which there were various
kinds ; and from these resulted secular dances. Mean-
while Music and Poetry, though still united, came to have
an existence separate from dancing. The aboriginal Greek
poems, religious in subject, were not recited, but chanted ;
and though at first the chant of the poet was accompanied
by the dance of the chorus, it ultimately grew into inde-
pendence. Later still, when the poem had been differen-
tiated into epic and lyric — when it became the custom to
sing the lyric and recite the epic — poetry proper was born.
A.s during the same period musical instruments were being

26 PKOGRESS t ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

multiplied, we may presume that music came to have an
existence apart from words. And both of them were be-
ginning to assume other forms besides the religious. Facts
having like implications might be cited from the histories
of later times and peoples: as the practices of our own
early minstrels, who sang to the harp heroic narratives ver-
sified by themselves to music of their own composition :
thus uniting the now separate offices of poet, composer, vo-
calist, and instrumentalist. But, without further illustra-
tion, the common origin and gradual differentiation of
Dancing, Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently manifest.

The advance from the homogeneous to the heterogene-
ous is displayed not only in the separation of these arts from
each other and from religion, but also in the multiplied dif-
ferentiations which each of them afterwards undergoes.
Not to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing that
have, in course of time, come into use ; and not to occupy
space in detailing the progress of poetry, as seen in the de-
velopment of the various forms of metre, of rhyme, and
of general organization ; let us confine our attention to
music as a type of the group. As argued by Dr. Burney,
and as implied by the customs of still extant barbarous
races, the first musical instruments were, without doubt,
percussive — sticks, calabashes, tom-toms — and were used
simply to mark the time of the dance ; and in this constant
repetition of the same sound, we see music in its most
homogeneous form.

The Egyptians had a lyre with three strings. The
early lyre of the Greeks had four, constituting their tetra-
chord. In course of some centuries lyres of seven and
eight strings were employed. And, by the expiration of
a thousand years, they had advanced to their " great system ''
of the double octave. Through all which changes there of
course arose a greater heterogeneity of melody. Simulta
neously there came into use the different modes — Dorian,

EVOLUTION OF MUSIC AND TOETEY. 27

Ionian, Phrygian, iEolian, and Lydian — answering to our
keys ; and of these there were ultimately fifteen. As yet,
however, there was but little heterogeneity in the time of
their music.

Instrumental music during this period being merely the
accompaniment of vocal music, and vocal music being com-
pletely subordinated to words, the singer being also the poet,
chanting his own compositions and making the lengths of his
notes agree with the feet of his verses, — there unavoidably
arose a tiresome uniformity of measure, which, as Dr. Bur-
ney says, " no resources of melody could disguise." Lacking
the complex rhythm obtained by our equal bars and unequal
notes the only rhythm was that produced by the quantity of
the syllables and was of necessity comparatively monotonous.
And further, it may be observed that the chant thus result-
ing, being like recitative, was much less clearly differen-
tiated from ordinary speech than is our modern song.

Nevertheless, in virtue of the extended range of notes
in use, the variety of modes, the occasional variations of
time consequent on changes of metre, and the multiplica-
tion of instruments, music had, towards the close of Greek
civilization, attained to considerable heterogeneity — not
indeed as compared with our music, but as compared with
that which preceded it. As yet, however, there existed
nothing but melody : harmony was unknown. It was not
until Christian church-music had reached some development,
that music in parts was evolved; and then it came into
existence through a very unobtrusive differentiation. Diffi-
cult as it may be to conceive & priori how the advance
from melody to harmony could take place without a sud-
den leap, it is none the less true that it did so. The
circumstance which prepared the way for it was the em-
ployment of two choirs singing alternately the same air.
Afterwards it became the practice — very possibly first
Buggested by a mistake — for the second choir to com

28 PEOGEESS: IT8 LAW AND CAUSE.

mence before the first had ceased; thus producing
fugue.

With the simple airs then in use, a partially harmo
nious fugue might not improbably thus result : and a very
partially harmonious fugue satisfied the ears of that age,
as we know from still preserved examples. The idea hav-
ing once been given, the composing of airs productive of
fugal harmony would naturally grow up ; as in some way
it did grow up out of this alternate choir-singing. And
from the fugue to concerted music of two, three, four, and
more parts, the transition was easy. Without pointing
out in detail the increasing complexity that resulted from
introducing notes of various lengths, from the multiplica-
tion of keys, from the use of accidentals, from varieties of
time, and so forth, it needs but to contrast music as it is,
with music as it was, to see how immense is the increase
of heterogeneity. We see this if, looking at music in its
ensemble, we enumerate its many different genera and
species — if we consider the divisions into vocal, instrumen-
tal, and mixed ; and their subdivisions into music for differ-
ent voices and different instruments — if we observe the
many forms of sacred music, from the simple hymn, the
chant, the canon, motet, anthem, &c, up to the oratorio ;
and the still more numerous forms of secular music, from
the ballad up to the serenata, from the instrumental solo up
to the symphony.

Again, the same truth is seen on comparing any one
sample of aboriginal music with a sample of modern music
— even an ordinary song for the piano ; which we find to
be relatively highly heterogeneous, not only in respect of
the varieties in the pitch and in the length of the notes,
the number of different notes sounding at the same instant
in company with the voice, and the variations of strength
with which they are sounded and sung, but in respect of
the changes of key, the changes of time, the changes of

EVOLUTION OF LITERATURE. 2S

timbre of the voice, and the many other modifications of
expression. While between the old monotonous dance-
chant and a grand opera of our own day, with its endless
orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the con-
trast in heterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely
credible that the one should have been the ancestor of the
other.

Were they needed, many further illustrations might be
cited. Going back to the early time when the deeds of
the god-king, chanted and mimetically represented in
dances round his altar, were further narrated in picture-
writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so con-
stituted a rude literature, we might trace the development
of Literature through phases in which, as in the Hebrew
Scriptures, it presents in one work theology, cosmogony,
history, biography, civil law, ethics, poetry ; through othei
phases in which, as in the Iliad, the religious, martial, his-
torical, the epic, dramatic, and lyric elements are similarly
commingled ; down to its present heterogeneous develop-
ment, in which its divisions and subdivisions are so numer-
ous and varied as to defy complete classification. Or we
might trace out the evolution of Science ; beginning with
the era in which it was not yet differentiated from Art,
and was, in union with Art, the handmaid of Religion ; pass-
ing through the era in which the sciences were so few and
rudimentary, as to be simultaneously cultivated by the same
philosophers ; and ending with the era in which the genera
and species are so numerous that few can enumerate them,
and no one can adequately grasp even one genus. Or we
might do the like with Architecture, with the Drama, with
Dress.

But doubtless the reader is already weary of illustra-
tions ; and our promise has been amply fulfilled. We
believe we have shown beyond question, that that which
the German physiologists have found to be the law of

^

30 PROGRESS! ITS i^AW AND CAUSE.

organic development, is the law of all development. The
advance from the simple to the complex, through a process
of successive differentiations, is seen alike in the earliest
changes of the Universe to which we can reason our way
back; and in the earliest changes which we can induc-
tively establish ; it is seen in the geologic and climatic
evolution of the Earth, and of every single organism on its
surface ; it is seen in the evolution of Humanity, whether
contemplated in the civilized individual, or in the aggre-
gation of races ; it is seen in the evolution of Society in
respect alike of its political, its religious, and its economi-
cal organization ; and it is seen in the evolution of all
those endless concrete and abstract products of human
activity which constitute the environment of our daily life.
From the remotest past which Science can fathom, up to
the novelties of yesterday, that in which Progress essen-
tially consists, is the transformation of the homogeneous
into the heterogeneous.

And now, from this uniformity of procedure, may we
not infer some fundamental necessity whence it results ?
May we not rationally seek for some all-pervading princi-
ple which determines this all-pervading process of things ?
Does not the universality of the law imply a universal
cause f

That we can fathom such cause, noumenally considered,
is not to be supposed. To do this would be to solve that
ultimate mystery which must ever transcend human intelli-
gence. But it still may be possible for us to reduce the
law of all Progress, above established, from the condition
of an empirical generalization, to the condition of a ra-
tional generalization. Just as it was possible to interpret
Kepler's laws as necessary consequences of the law of gravi-
tation ; so it may be possible to interpret this law of Pro-
gress, in its multiform manifestations, as the necessary con-

NECESSARY NATURE OF THE CAUSE. 31

sequence of some similarly universal principle. As gravi-
tation was assignable as the cause of each of the groups of
phenomena which Kepler formulated ; so may some equally
simple attribute of things be assignable as the cause of each
of the groups of phenomena formulated in the foregoing
pages. We may be able to affiliate all these varied and
complex evolutions of the homogeneous into the heteroge-
neous, upon certain simple facts of immediate experi-
ence, which, in virtue of endless repetition, we regard as
necessary.

The probability of a common cause, and the possibility
of formulating it, being granted, it will be well, before
going further, to consider what must be the* general
characteristics of such cause, and in what direction we
ought to look for it. We can with certainty predict that
it has a high degree of generality ; seeing that it is com-
mon to such infinitely varied phenomena: just in propor-
tion to the universality of its application must be the
abstractness of its character. We need not expect to see
in it an obvious solution of this or that form of Progress ;
because it equally refers to forms of Progress bearing little
apparent resemblance to them : its association with multi-
form orders of facts, involves its dissociation from any par-
ticular order of facts. Being that which determines Pro-
gress of every kind — astronomic, geologic, organic, ethnolo-
gic, social, economic, artistic, &c. — it must be concerned
with some fundamental attribute possessed in common by
these ; and must be expressible in terms of this fundamen-
tal attribute. The only obvious respect in which all kinds
of Progress are alike, is, that they are modes of change / and
hence, in some characteristic of changes in general, the de-
sired solution will probably be found. We may suspect
a priori that in some law of change lies the explanation of
this universal transformation of the homogeneous into th«
heterogeneous.

82 progress: its law and cause.

Thus much premised, we pass at once to the statement
of the law, which is this : — Every active force produces
more than one change — every cause produces more than one
effect.

Before this law can be duly comprehended, a few exam-
ples must be looked at. When one body is struck against
another, that which we usually regard as the effect, is a
change of position or motion in one or both bodies. But
a moment's thought shows us that this is a careless and
very incomplete view of the matter. Besides the visible
mechanical result, sound is produced ; or, to speak accurate-
ly, a vibration in one or both bodies, and in the surround-
ing air : and under some circumstances we call this the ef-
fect. Moreover, the air has not only been made to vibrate,
but has had sundry currents caused in it by the transit of
the bodies. Further, there is a disarrangement of the par-
ticles of the two bodies in the neighbourhood of their point
of collision ; amounting in some cases to a visible conden-
sation. Yet more, this condensation is accompanied by the
disengagement of heat. In some cases a spark — that is,
light — results, from the incandescence of a portion struck
off; and sometimes this incandescence is associated with
chemical combination.

Thus, by the original mechanical force expended in the
collision, at least five, and often more, different kinds of
changes have been produced. Take, again, the lighting of
a candle. Primarily this is a chemical change consequent
on a rise of temperature. The process of combination
having once been set going by extraneous heat, there is a
continued formation of carbonic acid, water, &c. — in itself
a result more complex than the extraneous heat that first
caused it. But accompanying this process of combination
there is a production of heat ; there is a production of light ;
there is an ascending column of hot gases generated ; there
are currents established in the surrounding air. Moreover

MULTIPLICATION OF EFFECTS. 33

the decomposition of one force into many forces does not
end here : each of the several changes produced becomes
the parent of further changes. The carbonic acid given
off will by and by combine with some base ; or under the
influence of sunshine give up its carbon to the leaf of a
plant. The water will modify the hygrometric state of the
air around ; or, if the current of hot gases containing it
come against a cold body, will be condensed : altering the
temperature, and perhaps the chemical state, of the surface
it covers. The heat given out melts the subjacent tallow,
and expands whatever it warms. The light, falling on vari-
ous substances, calls forth from them reactions by which
it is modified ; and so divers colours are produced. Similarly
even with these secondary actions, which may be traced out
into ever-multiplying ramifications, until they become too
minute to be appreciated. And thus it is with all changes
whatever. No case can be named in which an active force
does not evolve forces of several kinds, and each of these,
other groups of forces. Universally the effect is more com-
plex than the cause.

Doubtless the reader already foresees the course of our
argument. This multiplication of results, which is displayed
in every event of to-day, has been going on from the begin-
ning ; and is true of the grandest phenomena of the uni-
verse as of the most insignificant. From the law that every
active force produces more than one change, it is an inevit-
able corollary that through all time there has been an ever-
growing complication of things. Starting with the ultimate
fact that every cause produces more than one effect, we may
readily see that throughout creation there must have gone
on, and must still go on, a never-ceasing transformation of
the homogeneous into the heterogeneous. But let us trace
out this truth in detail.'*

* A correlative truth which ought also to be taken into account (that
iiae state of homogeneity is one of unstable equilibrium), but which it

Bi ruoGREss: its law and cause.

Without committing ourselves to it as more than a spec-
ulation, though a highly probable one, let us again com-
mence with the evolution of the solar system out of a ne-
bulous medium.* From the mutual attraction of the atoms
of a diffused mass whose form is un symmetrical, there re-
sults not only condensation but rotation : gravitation simul-
taneously generates both the centripetal and the centrifugal
forces. While the condensation and the rate of rotation
are progressively increasing, the approach of the atoms ne-
cessarily generates a progressively increasing temperature.
As this temperature rises, light begins to be evolved ; and
ultimately there results a revolving sphere of fluid matter
radiating intense heat and light — a sun.

There are good reasons for believing that, in consequence
of the high tangential velocity, and consequent centrifugal
force, acquired by the outer parts of the condensing nebu-
lous mass, there must be a periodical detachment of rota-
ting rings ; and that, from the breaking up of these nebu-
lous rings, there must arise masses which in the course of
their condensation repeat the actions of the parent mass,
and so produce planets and their satellites — an inference
strongly supported by the still extant rings of Saturn.

Should it hereafter be satisfactorily shown that planets
and satellites were thus generated, a striking illustration
will be afforded of the highly heterogeneous effects pro-
duced by the primary homogeneous cause ; but it will
serve our present purpose to point to the fact that from the

would greatly encumber the argument to exemplify in connection with
the above, will be found developed in the essay on Transcendental Physio-

* The idea that the Nebular Hypothesis has been disproved because
what were thought to be existing nebulas have been resolved into clusters
of stars is almost beneath notice. A priori it was highly improbable, if
not impossible, that nebulous masses should still remain uncondensed,
while others have been condensed millions of years ago.

EFFECTS OF THE EARTIl's INCANDESCENCE. 35

mutual attraction of the particles of an irregular nebulous
mass there result condensation, rotation, heat, and light.

It follows as a corollary from the Nebular Hypothesis,
that the Earth must at first have been incandescent ; and
whether the Nebular Hypothesis be true or not, this origi
nal incandescence of the Earth is now inductively established
— or, if not established, at least rendered so highly pro-
bable that it is a generally admitted geological doctrine.
Let us look first at the astronomical attributes of this once
molten globe. From its rotation there result the oblate-
ness of its form, the alternations of day and night, and (un-
der the influence of the moon) the tides, aqueous and at-
mospheric. From the inclination of its axis, there result
the precession of the equinoxes and the many differences of
the seasons, both simultaneous and successive, that pervade
its surface. Thus the multiplication of effects is obvious.
Several of the differentiations due to the gradual cooling
of the Earth have been already noticed — as the formation
of a crust, the solidification of sublimed elements, the pre-
cipitation of water, &c, — and we here again refer to them
merely to point out that they are simultaneous effects of
the one cause, diminishing heat.

Let us now, however, observe the multiplied changes
afterwards arising from the continuance of this one cause.
The cooling of the Earth involves its contraction. Hence the
solid crust first formed is presently too large for the shrink-
ing nucleus ; and as it cannot support itself, inevitably follows
the nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot sink down
into contact with a smaller internal spheroid, without disrup-
tion ; it must run into wrinkles as the rind of an apple does
when the bulk of its interior decreases from evaporation.
As the cooling progresses and the envelope thickens, the
ridges consequent on these contractions must become
greater, rising ultimately into hills and mountains ; and the
later systems of mountains thus produced must not only be

36 PROGRESS I ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

higher, as we find them to be, but they must be longer, as
we also find them to be. Thus, leaving out of view other
modifying forces, we see what immense heterogeneity of
surface has arisen from the one cause, loss of heat — a heto-
rogeneity which the telescope shows us to be paralleled on
the face of the moon, where aqueous and atmospherio
agencies have been absent.

But we have yet to notice another kind of heterogeneity
of surface similarly and simultaneously caused. While the
Earth's crust was still thin, the ridges produced by its con-
traction must not only have been small, but the spaces be-
tween these ridges must have rested with great evenness
upon the subjacent liquid spheroid ; and the water in those
arctic and antarctic regions in which it first condensed, must
have been evenly distributed. But as fast as the crust grew
thicker and gained corresponding strength, the lines of
fracture from time to time caused in it, must have occurred
at greater distances apart ; the intermediate surfaces must
have followed the contracting nucleus with less uniformity ;
and there must have resulted larger areas of land and wa-
ter. If any one, after wrapping up an orange in wet tissue
paper, and observing not only how small are the wrinkles,
but how evenly the intervening spaces lie upon the surface
of the orange, will then wrap it up in thick cartridge-paper,
and note both the greater height of the ridges and the
much larger spaces throughout which the paper does not
touch the orange, he will realize the fact, that as the Earth's
solid envelope grew thicker, the areas of elevation and de-
pression must have become greater. In place of islands
more or less homogeneously scattered over an all-embra-
cing sea, there must have gradually arisen heterogeneous
arrangements of continent and ocean, such as we now know.

Once more, this double change in the extent and in the
elevation of the lands, involved yet another species of he-
terogeneity, that of coast-line. A tolerably even surface

CHANGES PRODUCED BY AIR AND WATER. 37

raised out of the ocean, must have a simple, regular sea-
margin; but a surface varied by table- lands and intersected
by mountain-chains must, when raised out of the ocean,
have an outline extremely irregular both in its leading
features and in its details. Thus endless is the accumula-
tion of geological and geographical results slowly brought
about by this one cause — the contraction of the Earth.

When we pass from the agency which geologists term
igneous, to aqueous and atmospheric agencies, we see the
like ever-growing complications of effects. The denuding
actions of air and water have, from the beginning, been
modifying every exposed surface ; everywhere causing
many different changes. Oxidation, heat, wind, frost,
rain, glaciers, rivers, tides, waves, have been unceasingly
producing disintegration ; varying in kind and amount ac-
cording to local circumstances. Acting upon a tract of
granite, they here work scarcely an appreciable effect ;
there cause exfoliations of the surface, and a resulting heap
of debris and boulders ; and elsewhere, after decomposing
the feldspar into a white clay, carry away this and the ac-
companying quartz and mica, and deposite them in separate
beds, fluviatile and marine. When the exposed land con-
sists of several unlike formations, sedimentary and igneous,
the denudation produces changes proportionably more he-
terogeneous. The formations being disintegrable in different
degrees, there follows an increased irregularity of surface.
The areas drained by different rivers being differently con-
stituted, these rivers carry down to the sea different com-
binations of ingredients; and so sundry new strata of
distinct composition are formed.

And here indeed we may see very simply illustrated,
the truth, which we shall presently have to trace out in
more involved cases, that in proportion to the heterogeneity
of the object or objects on which any force expends itself,
is the heterogeneity of the results. A continent of com

88 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

plex structure, exposing many strata irregularly distributed,
raised to various levels, tilted up at all angles, must, undei
the same denuding agencies, give origin to immensely mul-
tiplied results ; each district must be differently modified;
each river must carry down a different kind of detritus ;
each deposit must be differently distributed by the en-
tangled currents, % tidal and other, which wash the con-
torted shores; and this multiplication of results must
manifestly be greatest where the complexity of the surface
is greatest.

It is out of the question here to trace in detail the genesis
of those endless complications described by Geology and
Physical Geography : else we might show how the general
truth, that every active force produces more than one
change, is exemplified in the highly involved flow of the
tides, in the ocean currents, in the winds, in the distribu-
tion of rain, in the distribution of heat, and so forth. But
not to dwell upon these, let us, for the fuller elucidation
of this truth in relation to the inorganic world, consider
what would be the consequences of some extensive cos-
mical revolution — say the subsidence of Central America.

The immediate results of the disturbance would them-
selves be sufficiently complex. Besides the numberless
dislocations of strata, the ejections of igneous matter, the
propagation of earthquake vibrations thousands of miles
around, the loud explosions, and the escape of gases ; there
would be the rush of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to
supply the vacant space, the subsequent recoil of enormous
waves, which would traverse both these oceans and produce
myriads of changes along their shores, the corresponding
atmospheric waves complicated by the currents surrounding
each volcanic vent, and the electrical discharges with which
such disturbances are accompanied. But these temporary
effects would be insignificant compared with the permanent
ones. The complex currents of the Atlantic and Pacific

EFFECTS OF A SUBSIDENCE OF THE LAND. 39

would be altered in direction and amount. The distribu-
tion of heat achieved by these ocean currents would be
different from what it is. The arrangement of the isother-
mal lines, not even? on the neighbouring continents, but
even throughout Europe, would be changed. The tides
would flow differently from what they do now. There
would be more or less modification of the winds in their
periods, strengths, directions, qualities. Rain would fall
scarcely anywhere at the same times and in the same quan-
tities as at present. In short, the meteorological conditions
thousands of miles off, on all sides, would be more or less
revolutionized.

Thus, without taking into account the infinitude of
modifications which these changes of climate would pro-
duce upon the flora and fauna, both of land and sea, the
reader will see the immense heterogeneity of the results
wrought out by one force, when that force expends itself
upon a previously complicated area ; and he will readily
draw the corollary that from the beginning the complica-
tion has advanced at an increasing rate.

Before going on to show how organic progress also
depends upon the universal law that every force produces
more than one change, we have to notice the manifestation
of this law in yet another species of inorganic progress —
namely, chemical. The same general causes that have
wrought out the heterogeneity of the Earth, physically
considered, have simultaneously wrought out its chemical
heterogeneity. Without dwelling upon the general fact
that the forces which have been increasing the variety and
complexity of geological formations, have, at the same
time, been bringing into contact elements not previously
exposed to each other under conditions favourable to union,
and so have been adding to the number of chemical com-
pounds, let us pass to the more important complications
that have resulted from the cooling of the Earth.

10 progress: its law and cause.

There is every reason to believe that at an extreme heat
the elements cannot combine. Even under such heat as
can be artificially produced, some very strong affinities
yield, as for instance, that of oxygen for hydrogen ; and
the great majority of chemical compounds are decomposed
at much lower temperatures. But without insisting upon
the highly probable inference, that when the Earth was in
its first state of incandescence there were no chemical com-
binations at all, it will suffice our purpose to point to the
unquestionable fact that the compounds that can exist at
the highest temperatures, and which must, therefore, have
been the first that were formed as the Earth cooled, arc
those of the simplest constitutions. The protoxides — in-
cluding under that head the alkalies, earths, &c. — are, as a
class, the most stable compounds we know : most of them
resisting decomposition by any heat we can generate.
These, consisting severally of one atom of each component
element, are combinations of the simplest order — are but
one degree less homogeneous than the elements themselves.
More heterogeneous than these, less stable, and therefore
later in the Earth's history, are the deutoxides, tritoxides,
peroxides, &c. ; in which two, three, four, or more atoms
of oxygen are united with one atom of metal or other ele-
ment. Higher than these in heterogeneity are the hydrates ;
in which an oxide of hydrogen, united with an oxide of
some other element, forms a substance whose atoms sever-
ally contain at least four ultimate atoms of three different
kinds. Yet more heterogeneous and less stable still are
the salts; which present us with compound atoms each
made up of five, six, seven, eight, ten, twelve, or more
atoms, of three, if not more, kinds. Then there are the
hydrated salts, of a yet greater heterogeneity, wrhich un-
dergo partial decomposition at much lower temperatures.
After them come the further-complicated supersalts and
double salts, having a stability again decreased ; and sc

CHEMICAL EFFECTS OF DECREASING HEAT. 41

throughout. Without entering into qualifications for
which we lack space, we believe no chemist will deny it to
be a general law of these inorganic combinations that,
other things equal, the stability decreases as the complexity
increases.

And then when we pass to the compounds of organic
chemistry, we find this general law still further exemplified :
we find much greater complexity and much less stability.
An atom of albumen, for instance, consists of 482 ultimate
atoms of five different kinds. Fibrine, still more intricate
in constitution, contains in each atom, 298 atoms of carbon,
40 of nitrogen, 2 of sulphur, 228 of hydrogen, and 92 of
oxygen — in all, 660 atoms ; or, more strictly speaking —
equivalents. And these two substances are so unstable as
to decompose at quite ordinary temperatures; as that to
which the outside of a joint of roast meat is exposed.
Thus it is manifest that the present chemical heterogene-
ity of the Earth's surface has arisen by degrees, as the de-
crease of heat has permitted ; and that it has shown itself
in three forms — first, in the multiplication of chemical com-
pounds ; second, in the greater number of different ele-
ments contained in the more modern of these compounds :
and third, in the higher and more varied multiples in which
these more numerous elements combine.

To say that this advance in chemical heterogeneity is
due to the one cause, diminution of the Earth's tempera-
ture, would be to say too much ; for it is clear that aque-
ous and atmospheric agencies have been concerned ; and,
further, that the affinities of the elements themselves are
implied. The cause has all along been a composite one :
the cooling of the Earth having been simply the most gen-
eral of the concurrent causes, or assemblage of conditions.
And here, indeed, it may be remarked that in the several
classes of facts already dealt with (excepting, perhaps, the
first), and still more in those with which we shall presently

42 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

deal, the causes are more or less compound ; as indeed are
nearly all causes with which we are acquainted. Scar eel)
any change can with logical accuracy be wholly ascribed to
one agency, to the neglect of the permanent or temporary
conditions under which only this agency produces the
change. But as it does not materially affect our argument,
we prefer, for simplicity's sake, to use throughout the popu-
iai mode of expression.

Perhaps it will be further objected, that to assign loss
of heat as the cause* of any changes, is to attribute these
changes not to a force, but to the absence of a force. And
this is true. Strictly speaking, the changes should be at-
tributed to those forces which come into action when the
antagonist force is withdrawn. Bat though there is an in-
accuracy in saying that the freezing of water is due to the
loss of its heat, no practical error arises from it ; nor will
a parallel laxity of expression vitiate our statements respect-
ing the multiplication of effects. Indeed, the objection
serves but to draw attention to the fact, that not only does
the exertion of a force produce more than one change, but
the withdrawal of a force produces more than one, change.
And this suggests that perhaps the most correct statement
of our general principle would be its most abstract state-
ment—every change is followed by more than one othei
change.

Returning to the thread of our exposition, we have next
to trace out, in organic progress, this same all-pervading
principle. And here, where the evolution of the homoge-
neous into the heterogeneous was first observed, the produc-
tion of many changes by one cause is least easy to demon-
strate. The development of a seed into a plant, or an
ovum into an animal, is so gradual, while the forces which
determine it are so involved, and at the same time so unob-
trusive, that it is difficult to detect the multiplication of effects
which is elsewhere so obvious. Nevertheless, guided by

MULTIPLIED ORGANIC EFFECTS. 43

indirect evidence, we may pretty safely reach the conclu-
sion that here too the law holds.

Observe, first, how numerous are the effects which any
marked change works upon an adult organism — a human
being, for instance. An alarming sound or sight, besides
the impressions on the organs of sense and the nerves, may
produce a start, a scream, a distortion of the face, a tremb-
ling consequent upon a general muscular relaxation, a
burst of perspiration, an excited action of the heart, a
rush of blood to the brain, followed possibly by arrest of
the heart's action and by syncope : and if the system be
feeble, an indisposition with its long train of complicated
symptoms may set in. Similarly in cases of disease. A
minute portion of the small-pox virus introduced into
the system, will, in a severe case, cause, during the first
stage, rigors, heat of skin, accelerated pulse, furred
tongue, loss of appetite, thirst, epigastric uneasiness,
vomiting, headache, pains in the back and limbs, muscular
weakness, convulsions, delirium, &c. ; in the second stage,
cutaneous eruption, itching, tingling, sore throat, swelled
fauces, salivation, cough, hoarseness, dyspnoea, &c. ; and in
the third stage, oedematous inflammations, pneumonia, pleuri-
sy, diarrhoea, inflammation of the brain, ophthalmia, erysipe-
las, &c. : each of which enumerated symptoms is itself more
or less complex. Medicines, special foods, better air, might
in like manner be instanced as producing multiplied results.

Now it needs only to consider that the many changes
thus wrought by one force upon an adult organism, will be
in part paralleled in an embryo organism, to understand
how here also, the evolution of the homogeneous into the
heterogeneous may be due to the production of many
effects by one cause. The external heat and other agen-
cies which determine the first complications of the germ,
may, by acting upon these, superinduce further complica-
tions ; upon these still higher and more numerous ones ;

J4 PEOGEESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

and so on continually : each organ as it is developed ser*
ving, by its actions and reactions upon the rest, to initiate
new complexities. The first pulsations of the foetal heart
must simultaneously aid the unfolding of every part. The
growth of each tissue, by taking from the blood special
proportions of elements, must modify the constitution of
the blood ; and so must modify the nutrition of all the
other tissues. The heart's action, implying as it does a cer-
tain waste, necessitates an addition to the blood of effete
matters, which must influence the rest of the system, and
perhaps, as some think, cause the formation of excretory
organs. The nervous connections established among the
yiscera must further multiply their mutual influences : and
so continually.

Still stronger becomes the probability of this view when
we call to mind the fact, that the same germ may be
evolved into different forms according to circumstances.
Thus, during its earlier stages, every embryo is sexless —
becomes either male or female as the balance of forces act-
ing upon it determines. Again, it is a well-established fact
that the larva of a working-bee will develop into a queen-
bee, if, before it is too late, its food be changed to that on
which the larvae of queen-bees are fed. Even more remark-
able is the case of certain entozoa. The ovum of a tape-
worm, getting into its natural habitat, the intestine, unfolds
into the well-known form of its parent ; but if carried, as
it frequently is, into other parts of the system, it becomes
a sac-like creature, called by naturalists the Echinococcus
— a creature so extremely different from the tape- worm iii
aspect and structure, that only after careful investigations
has it been proved to have the same origin. All which
instances imply that each advance in embryonic complica-
tion results from the action of incident forces upon the
complication previously existing.

Tndeed, we may find & priori reason to think that the

MULTIPLIED ORGANIC EFFECTS. 45

evolution proceeds after this manner. For since it is now
known that no germ, animal or vegetable, contains the
slightest rudiment, trace, or indication of the future organ-
ism— now that the microscope has shown us that the first
process set up in every fertilized germ, is a process of re-
peated spontaneons fissions ending in the production of a
mass of cells, not one of which exhibits any special charac-
ter : there seems no alternative but to suppose that the
partial organization at any moment subsisting in a growing
embryo, is transformed by the agencies acting upon it into
the succeeding phase of organization, and this into the
next, until, through ever-increasing complexities, the ulti-
mate form is reached. Thus, though the subtilty of the
forces and the slowness of the results; prevent us from
directly showing that the stages of increasing heterogeneity
through which every embryo passes, severally arise from
the production of many changes by one force, yet, indi-
rectly, we have strong evidence that they do so.

We have marked how multitudinous are the effects
which one cause may generate in an adult organism ; that
a like multiplication of effects must happen in the unfold-
ing organism, we have observed in sundry illustrative
cases ; further, it has been pointed out that the ability
which like germs have to originate unlike forms, implies that
the successive transformations result from the new chancres
superinduced on previous changes ; and we have seen that
structureless as every germ originally is, the development
of an organism out of it is otherwise incomprehensible
Not indeed that we can thus really explain the production
of any plant or animal. We are still in the dark respect-
ing those mysterious properties in virtue of which the
germ, when subject to fit influences, undergoes the special
changes that begin the series of transformations. All we
aim to show, is, that given a germ possessing these myste-
rious properties, the evolution of an organism from it.

40 PROGRESS I ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

probably depends upon that multiplication of effects which
we have seen to be the cause of progress in general, so far
as we have yet traced it.

When, leaving the development of single plants and
animals, we pass to that of the Earth's flora and fauna, the
course of our argument again becomes clear and simple.
Though, as was admitted in the first part of this article,
the fragmentary facts Palaeontology has accumulated, do
not clearly warrant us in saying that, in the lapse of geo-
logic time, there have been evolved more heterogeneous
organisms, and more heterogeneous assemblages of organ-
isms, yet we shall now see that there must ever have been
a tendency towards these results. We shall find that the
production of many effects by one cause, which, as already
shown, has been all along increasing the physical hetero-
geneity of the Earth, has further involved an increasing
heterogeneity in its flora and fauna, individually and col-
lectively. An illustration will make this clear.

Suppose that by a series of upheavals, occurring, as
they are now known to do, at long intervals, the East In-
dian Archipelago were to be, step by step, raised into a
continent, and a chain of mountains formed along the axis
of elevation. By the first of these upheavals, the plants
and animals inhabiting Borneo, Sumatra, New Guinea, and
the rest, would be subjected to slightly modified sets of
conditions. The climate in general would be altered in
temperature, in humidity, and in its periodical variations ;
while the local differences would be multiplied. These
modifications would affect, perhaps inappreciably, the entire
flora and fauna of the region. The change of level would
produce additional modifications : varying in different spe-
cies, and also in different members of the same species,
according to their distance from the axis of elevation.
Plants, growing only on the sea-shore in special localities,
tnight become extinct. Others, living only in swamps of a

CHANGES OF THE EAKTIl's FLOKA AND FAUNA. 47

certain humidity, would, if they survived at all, probably
undergo visible changes of appearance. While still greater
alterations would occur in the plants gradually spreading
over the lands newly raised above the sea. The animal?
and insects living on these modified plants, would them-
selves be in some degree modified by change of food, as
well as by change of climate ; and the modification would
be more marked where, from the dwindling or disappear-
ance of one kind of plant, an allied kind was eaten. In the
lapse of the many generations arising before the next up-
heaval, the sensible or insensible alterations thus produced
in each species would become organized — there would be
a more or less complete adaptation to the new conditions.
The next upheaval would superinduce further organic
changes, implying wider divergences from the primary
forms ; and so repeatedly.

But now let it be observed that the revolution thus
resulting would not be a substitution of a thousand more
or less modified species for the thousand original species ;
but in place of the thousand original species there would
arise several thousand species, or varieties, or changed
forms. Each species being distributed over an area of
some extent, and tending continually to colonize the new
area exposed, its different members would be subject to
different sets of changes. Plants and animals spreading
towards the equator would not be affected in the same way
with others spreading from it. Those spreading towards
the new shores would undergo changes unlike the changes
undergone by those spreading into the mountains. Thus,
each original race of organisms, would become the rooi
from which diverged several races differing more or le^
from it and from each other ; and while some of these
might subsequently disappear, probably more than one
would survive in the next geologic period : the very disper-
gion itself increasing the chances of survival. Not onlv

48 PKOGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

would there be certain modifications thus caused by change
of physical conditions and food, but also in some cases
other modifications caused by change of habit. The fauna
of each island, peopling, step by step, the newly-raised
tracts, would eventually come in contact with the faunas
of other islands ; and some members of these other faunas
would be unlike any creatures before seen. Herbivores
meeting with new beasts of prey, would, in some cases, be
led into modes of defence or escape differing from those
previously used ; and simultaneously the beasts of prey
would modify their modes of pursuit and attack. We
know that when circumstances demand it, such changes of
habit do take place in animals ; and we know that if the
new habits become the dominant ones, they must eventually
in some degree alter the organization.

Observe, now, however, a further consequence. There
must arise not simply a tendency towards the differentia-
tion of each race of organisms into several races ; but also
a tendency to the occasional production of a somewhat
higher organism. Taken in the mass these divergent varie-
ties which have been caused by fresh physical conditions
and habits of life, will exhibit changes quite indefinite in
kind and degree ; and changes that do not necessarily con-
stitute an advance. Probably in most cases the modified
type will be neither more nor less heterogeneous than the
original one. In some cases the habits of life adopted
being simpler than before, a less heterogeneous structure
will result : there will be a retrogradation. But it must
now and then occur, that some division of a species, falling
into circumstances which give it rather more complex expe-
riences, and demand actions somewhat more involved, will
have certain of its organs further differentiated in propor-
tionately small degrees, — will become slightly more hetero-
geneous.

Thus, in the natural course of things, there will from

INCREASING DIVERGENCE OF THE ANIMAL RACES. 49

time to time arise an increased heterogeneity both of the
Earth's flora and fauna, and of individual races included in
them. Omitting detailed explanations, and allowing for
the qualifications which cannot here be specified, we think
it is clear that geological mutations have all along tended
to complicate the forms of life, whether regarded sepa-
rately or collectively. The same causes which have led to
the evolution of the Earth's crust from the simple into the
complex, have simultaneously led to a parallel evolution of
the Life upon its surface. In this case, as in previous ones,
we see that the transformation of the homogeneous into
the heterogeneous is consequent upon the universal princi-
ple, that every active force produces more than one change.

The deduction here drawn from the established truths
of geology and the general laws of life, gains immensely
in weight on finding it to be in harmony with an induction
drawn from direct experience. Just that divergence of
many races from one race, which we inferred must have
been continually occurring during geologic time, we know
to have occurred during the pre-historic and historic pe-
riods, in man and domestic animals. And just that multi-
plication of effects which we concluded must have pro-
duced the first, we see has produced the last. Single
causes, as famine, pressure of population, war, have period-
ically led to further dispersions of mankind and of depend-
ent creatures : each such dispersion initiating new modifi
cations, new varieties of type. Whether all the human
races be or be not derived from one stock, philology makes
it clear that whole groups of races now easily distinguisha-
ble from each other, were originally one race, — that the
diffusion of one race into different climates and conditions
of existence, has produced many modified forms of it.

Similarly with domestic animals. Though in some cases
— as that of dogs — community of origin will perhaps be
disputed, yet in other cases — as that of the sheep or the

50 progress: its law and cause.

cattle of our own country — it will not be questioned that
local differences of climate, food, and treatment, have trans-
formed one original breed into numerous breeds now be-
come so far distinct as to produce unstable hybrids. More-
over, through the complications of effects flowing from
single causes, we here find, what we before inferred, not
only an increase of general heterogeneity, but also of spe-
cial heterogeneity. While of the divergent divisions and
subdivisions of the human race, many have undergone
changes not constituting an advance ; while in some the
type may have degraded ; in others it has become decidedly
more heterogeneous. The civilized European departs more
widely from the vertebrate archetype than does the savage.
Thus, both the law and the cause of progress, which, from
lack of evidence, can be but hypothetically substantiated
in respect of the earlier forms of life on our globe, can bo
actually substantiated in respect of the latest forms.

If the advance of Man towards greater heterogeneity
is traceable to the production of many effects by one canse,
still more clearly may the advance of Society towards
greater heterogeneity be so explained. Consider the
growth of an industrial organization. When, as must oc-
casionally happen, some individual of a tribe displays un-
usual aptitude for making an article of general use — a
weapon, for instance — which was before made by each man
for himself, there arises a tendency towards the differentia-
tion of that individual into a maker of such weapon. His
companions — warriors and hunters all of them, — severally
feel the importance of having the best weapons that can
be made ; and are therefore certain to offer strong induce-
ments to this skilled individual to make weapons for them.
He, on the other hand, having not only an unusual faculty,
but an unusual liking, for making such weapons (the talent
and the desire for any occupation being commonly associa-
ted), is predisposed to fulfil these commissions on the offer

SOCIAL DIFFERENTIATIONS. 51

of an adequate reward : especially as his love of distinction
is also gratified. This first specialization of function, once
commenced, tends ever to become more decided. On the
side of the weapon-maker continued practice gives increased
skill — increased superiority to his products : on the side of
his clients, cessation of practice entails decreased skill.
Thus the influences that determine this division of labour
grow stronger in both ways ; and the incipient heterogene-
ity is, on the average of cases, likely to become permanent
for that generation, if no longer.

Observe now, however, that this process not only dif-
ferentiates the social mass into two parts, the one monopo-
lizing, or almost monopolizing, the performance of a certain
function, and the other having lost the habit, and in some
measure the power, of performing that function ; but it
tends to imitate other differentiations. The advance we
have described implies the introduction of barter, — the
maker of weapons has, on each occasion, to be paid in such
other articles as he agrees to take in exchange. But he
will not habitually take in exchange one kind of article,
but many kinds. He does not want mats only, or skins, or
fishing gear, but he wants all these ; and on each occasion
will bargain for the particular things he most needs. What
follows ? If among the members of the tribe there exist
any slight differences of skill in the manufacture of these
various things, as there are almost sure to do, the weapon-
maker will take from each one the thing which that one ex-
cels in making : he will exchange for mats with him whose
mats are superior, and will bargain for the fishing gear of
whoever has the best. But he who has bartered away his
mats or his fishing gear, must make other mats or fishing
gear for himself; and in so doing must, in some degree,
further develop his aptitude. Thus it results that the
small specialities of faculty possessed by various members
of the tribe, will tend to grow more decided. If such

52 progress: irs law and cause.

transactions are from time repeated, these specializations
may become appreciable. And whether or not there en-
sue distinct differentiations of other individuals into makers
of particular articles, it is clear that incipient differentiations
take place throughout the tribe : the one original cause
produces not only the first dual effect, but a number cf
secondary dual effects, like in kind, but minor in degree.
This process, of which traces may be seen among groups
of schoolboys, cannot well produce any lasting effects in
an unsettled tribe ; but where there grows up a fixed and
multiplying community, these differentiations become per-
manent, and increase with each generation. A larger popu-
lation, involving a greater demand for every commodity,
intensifies the functional activity of each specialized person
or class ; and this renders the specialization more definite
where it already exists, and establishes it where it is nascent.
By increasing the pressure on the means of subsistence,
a larger population again augments these results ; seeing
that each person is forced more and more to confine him-
self to that which he can do best, and by which he can gain
most. This industrial progress, by aiding future produc-
tion, opens the way for a further growth of population,
which reacts as before : in all which the multiplication of
effects is manifest. Presently, under these same stimuli,
new occupations arise. Competing workers, ever aiming
to produce improved articles, occasionally discover better
processes or raw materials. In weapons and cutting tools,
the substitution of bronze for stone entails upon him who
first makes it a great increase of demand — so great an 'in-
crease that he presently finds all his time occupied in making
the bronze for the articles he sells, and is obliged to depute
the fashioning of these to others : and, eventually, the
making of bronze, thus gradually differentiated from a pre-
existing occupation, becomes an occupation by itself.

But now mark the ramified changes which follow this

MULTIPLICATION OF INDUSTRIAL EFFECTS. 53

change. Bronze soon replaces stone, not only in the arti-
cles it was first used for, but in many others — in arms, tools,
and utensils of various kinds ; and so affects the manufac-
ture of these things. Further, it affects the processes
which these utensils subserve, and the resulting products —
modifies buildings, carvings, dress, personal decorations
5Tet again, it sets going sundry manufactures which were
before impossible, from lack of a material fit for the requi-
site tools. And all these changes react on the people — in-
crease their manipulative skill, their intelligence, their com-
fort,— refine their habits and tastes. Thus the evolution of
a homogeneous society into a heterogeneous one, is clearly
consequent on the general principle, that many effects are
produced by one cause.

Our limits will not allow us to follow out this process in
its higher complications : else might we show how the lo-
calization of special industries in special parts of a king-
dom, as well as the minute subdivision of labour in the
making of each commodity, are similarly determined. Or,
turning to a somewhat different order of illustrations, we
might dwell on the multitudinous changes — material, intel-
lectual, moral, — caused by printing ; or the further exten-
sive series of changes wrought by gunpowder. But leaving
the intermediate phases of social development, let us take
a few illustrations from its most recent and its passing pha-
ses. To trace the effects of steam-power, in its manifold
applications to mining, navigation, and manufactures of all
kinds, would carry us into unmanageable detail. Let us
confine ourselves to the latest embodiment of steam-power
— the locomotive engine.

This, as the proximate cause of our railway system, has
changed the face of the country, the course of trade, and
the habits of the people. Consider, first, the complicated
Bets of changes that precede the making of every railway—
the provisional arrangements, the meetings, the registra*

54 progress: its law and cause.

tion, the trial section, the parliamentary survey, the litho
graphed plans, the books of reference, the local deposits and
notices, the application to Parliament, the passing Standing-
Orders Committee, the first, second, and third readings :
each of which brief heads indicates a multiplicity of transac-
tions, and the development of sundry occupations — as thosa
of engineers, surveyors, lithographers, parliamentary agents,
share-brokers ; and the creation of sundry others — as those
of traffic-takers, reference-takers. Consider, next, the yet
more marked changes implied in railway construction — the
cuttings, embankings, tunnellings, diversions of roads ; the
building of bridges and stations ; the laying down of bal-
last, sleepers, and rails; the making of engines, tenders,
carriages and waggons : which processes, acting upon nu-
merous trades, increase the importation of timber, the
quarrying of stone, the manufacture of iron, the mining of
coal, the burning of bricks : institute a variety of special
manufactures weekly advertised in the Hallway Times ;
and, finally, open the way to sundry new occupations, as
those of drivers, stokers, cleaners, plate-layers, <fcc., &c.
And then consider the changes, more numerous and in-
volved still, which railways in action produce on the com-
munity at large. The organization of every business is
more or less modified : ease of communication makes it bet-
ter to do directly what was before done by proxy ; agencies
are established where previously they would not have paid ;
goods are obtained from remote wholesale houses instead
of near retail ones ; and commodities are used which dis-
tance once rendered inaccessible. Again, the rapidity and
small cost of carriage tend to specialize more than ever the
industries of different districts — to confine each manufac-
ture to the parts in which, from local advantages, it can be
best carried on. Further, the diminished cost of carriage,
facilitating distribution, equalizes prices, and also, on the
average, lowers prices : thus bringing divers articles within

EFFECTS OF THE LOCOMOTIVE ENGINE. 55

the means of those before unable to buy them, and so in-
creasing their comforts and improving their habits. At the
same time the practice of travelling is immensely extended.
Classes who never before thought of it, take annual trips
to the sea ; visit their distant relations ; make tours ; and
so we are benefited in body, feelings, and intellect. More-
over, the more prompt transmission of letters and of news
produces further changes — makes the pulse of the nation
faster. Yet more, there arises a wide dissemination of cheap
literature through railway book-stalls, and of advertise-
ments in railway carriages : both of them aiding ulterior
progress.

And all the innumerable changes here briefly indicated
are consequent on the invention of the locomotive engine
The social organism has been rendered more heterogeneous
in virtue of the many new occupations introduced, and the
many old ones further specialized ; prices in every place
have been altered ; each trader has, more or less, modified
his way of doing business ; and almost every person has
been affected in his actions, thoughts, emotions.

Illustrations to the same effect might be indefinitely ac-
cumulated. That every influence brought to bear upon so-
ciety works multiplied effects ; and that increase of hetero-
geneity is due to this multiplication of effects ; may be seen
in the history of every trade, every custom, every belief.
But it is needless to give additional evidence of this. The
only further fact demanding notice, is, that we here see still
more clearly than ever, the truth before pointed out, that
in proportion as the area on which any force expends itself
becomes heterogeneous, the results are in a yet higher de-
gree multiplied in number and kind. While among the
primitive tribes to whom it was first known, caoutchouc
caused but a few changes, among ourselves the changes
have "been so many and varied that the history of them oc-

56 PEOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE,

cupies a volume.* Upon the small, homogeneous commu
nity inhabiting one of the Hebrides, the electric telegraph
would produce, were it used, scarcely any results ; but in
England the results it produces are multitudinous. The
comparatively simple organization under which our ances-
tors lived five centuries ago, could have undergone but few
modifications from an event like the recent one at Canton ;
but now the legislative decision respecting it sets up many
hundreds of complex modifications, each of which will be
the parent of numerous future ones.

Space permitting, we could willingly have pursued the
argument in relation to all the subtler results of civilization.
As before, we showed that the law of Progress to which
the organic and inorganic worlds conform, is also conformed
to by Language, Sculpture, Music, &c. ; so might we here
show that the cause which we have hitherto found to de-
termine Progress holds in these cases also. We might
demonstrate in detail how, in Science, an advance of one
division presently advances other divisions — how Astron-
omy has been immensely forwarded by discoveries in Op-
tics, while other optical discoveries have initiated Micro-
scopic Anatomy, and greatly aided the growth of Physiol-
ogy— how Chemistry has indirectly increased our knowl-
edge of Electricity, Magnetism, Biology, Geology — how
Electricity has reacted on Chemistry and Magnetism, de-
veloped our views of Light and Heat, and disclosed sundry
laws of nervous action.

In Literature the same truth might be exhibited in the
manifold effects of the primitive mystery-play, not only as
originating the modern drama, but as affecting through it
other kinds of poetry and fiction ; or in the still multiply-
ing forms of periodical literature that have descended from
the first newspaper, and which have severally acted and

* u Personal Narrative of the Origin of the Caoutchouc, or India-Rub
her Manufacture in England." By Thomas Hancock.

VAST APPLICABILITY OF THE PRINCIPLE. 57

reacted on other forms of literature and on each other.
The influence which a new school of Painting — as that of
the pre-Raffaelites — exercises upon other schools ; the hints
which all kinds of pictorial art are deriving from Photo-
graphy ; the complex results of new critical doctrines, as
those of Mr. Ruskin, might severally be dwelt upon as
displaying the like multiplication of effects. But it would
needlessly tax the reader's patience to pursue, in their
many ramifications, these various changes : here become
so involved and subtle as to be followed with some diffi-
culty.

Without further evidence, we venture to think our case
is made out. The imperfections of statement which brevity
has necessitated, do not, we believe, militate against the
propositions laid down. The qualifications here and there
demanded would not, if made, affect the inferences.
Though in one instance, where sufficient evidence is not
attainable, we have been unable to show that the law of
Progress applies; yet there is high probability that the same
generalization holds which holds throughout the rest of
creation. Though, in tracing the genesis of Progress, we
have frequently spoken of complex causes as if they were
simple ones ; it still remains true that such causes are far
less complex than their results. Detailed criticisms can-
not affect our main position. Endless facts go to show
that every kind of progress is from the homogeneous to
the heterogeneous ; and that it is so because each change
is followed by many changes. And it is significant that
where the facts are most accessible and abundant, there
are these truths most manifest.

However, to avoid committing ourselves to more than
is yet proved, we must be content with saying that such
are the law and the cause of all progress that is known to
ns. Should the Nebular Hypothesis ever be established,
then it wil! become manifest that the Universe at large,

58 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

like every organism, was once homogeneous ; that as a
whole, and in every detail, it has unceasingly advanced
towards greater heterogeneity ; and that its heterogeneity
is still increasing. It will be seen that as in each event of
to-day, so from the beginning, the decomposition of every
expended force into several forces has been perpetually
producing a higher complication ; that the increase of
heterogeneity so brought about is still going on, and must
continue to go on ; and that thus Progress is not an acci-
dent, not a thing within human control, but a beneficent
necessity.

A few words must be added on the ontological bear-
ings of our argument. Probably not a few will conclude
that here is an attempted solution of the great questions
with which Philosophy in all ages has perplexed itself
Let none thus deceive themselves. Only such as know not
the scope and the limits of Science can fall into so grave
an error. The foregoing generalizations apply, not to the
genesis of things in themselves, but to their genesis as
manifested to the human consciousness. After all that has
been said, the ultimate mystery remains just as it was.
The explanation of that which is explicable, does but bring
out into greater clearness the inexplicableness of that
which remains behind. However we may succeed in re-
ducing the equation to its lowest terms, we are not thereby
enabled to determine the unknown quantity : on the con-
trary, it only becomes more manifest that the unknown
quantity can never be found.

Little as it seems to do so, fearless inquiry tends con-
tinually to give a firmer basis to all true Religion. The
timid sectarian, alarmed at the progress of knowledge,
obliged to abandon one by one the superstitions of his
ancestors, and daily finding his cherished beliefs more and
more shaken, secretly fears that all things may some dav

NECESSARY LIMITS OF INVESTIGATION. 59

be explained ; and has a corresponding dread of Science :
thus evincing the profoundest of all infidelity — the fear lest
the truth be had. On the other hand, the sincere man of
science, content to follow wherever the evidence leads him,
becomes by each new inquiry more profoundly convinced
that the Universe is an insoluble problem. Alike in the
external and the internal worlds, he sees himself in the
midst of perpetual changes, of which he can discover
neither the beginning nor the end. If, tracing back the
evolution of things, he allows himself to entertain the
hypothesis that all matter once existed in a diffused form,
he finds it utterly impossible to conceive how this came to
be so ; and equally, if he speculates on the future, he can
assign no limit to the grand succession of phenomena ever
unfolding themselves before him. On the other hand, if
he looks inward, he perceives that both terminations of
the thread of consciousness are beyond his grasp : he can-
not remember when or how consciousness commenced,
and he cannot examine the consciousness that at any mo-
ment exists; for only a state of consciousness that is
already past can become the object of thought, and never
one which is passing.

When, again, he turns from the succession of phenom-
ena, external or internal, to their essential nature, he is
equally at fault. Though he may succeed in resolving all
properties of objects into manifestations of force, he is not
thereby enabled to realize what force is ; but finds, on the
contrary, that the more he thinks about it, the more he is
baffled. Similarly, though analysis of mental actions may
finally bring him down to sensations as the original ma-
terials out of which all thought is woven, he is none the
forwarder ; for he cannot in the least comprehend sensa-
tion— cannot even conceive how sensation is possible. In-
ward and outward things he thus discovers to be alike
inscrutable in their ultimate genesis and nature. lie sees

60 PKOGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE.

that the Materialist and Spiritualist controversy is a mere
war of words ; the disputants being equally absurd— each
believing he understands that which it is impossible for
any man to understand. In all directions his investigations
eventually bring him face to face with the unknowable ;
and he ever more clearly perceives it to be the unknowable.
He learns at once the greatness and the littleness of human
intellect — its power in dealing with all that comes within
the range of experience ; its impotence in dealing with all
that transcends experience. He feels, with a vividness
which no others can, the utter incomprehensibleness of
the simplest fact, considered in itself. He alone truly
sees that absolute knowledge is impossible. He alone
knows that under all things there lies an impenetrable
mystery.

II.

MANNERS AND FASHION.

WHOEVER has studied the physiognomy of political
meetings, cannot fail to have remarked a connection
between democratic opinions and peculiarities of costume.
At a Chartist demonstration, a lecture on Socialism, or a
soirSe of the Friends of Italy, there will be seen many
among the audience, and a still larger ratio among the
speakers, who get themselves up in a style more or less
unusual. One gentleman on the platform divides his hair
down the centre, instead of on one side ; another brushes
it back off the forehead, in the fashion known as " bringing
out the intellect ; '' a third has so long forsworn the scis-
sors, that his locks sweep his shoulders. A considerable
sprinkling of moustaches may be observed ; here and there
an imperial ; and occasionally some courageous breaker of
conventions exhibits a full-grown beard.* This noncon-
formity in hair is countenanced by various nonconformities
in dress, shown by others of the assemblage. Bare necks,
shirt-collars a la Byron, waistcoats cut Quaker fashion,
wonderfully shaggy great coats, numerous oddities in form
and colour, destroy the monotony usual in crowds. Ever
those exhibiting no conspicuous peculiarity, frequently in

* This was written before moustaches and beards had become common.

62 MANNERS AND FASHION.

dicate by something in the pattern or make-up of their
clothes, that they pay small regard to what their tailors
tell them about the prevailing taste. And when the
gathering breaks up, the varieties of head gear displayed
— the number of caps, and the abundance of felt hat?
— suffice to prove that were the world at large like-minded,
the black cylinders which tyrannize over us wrould soon be
deposed.

The foreign correspondence of our daily press showa
that this relationship between political discontent and the
disregard of customs exists on the Continent also. Red
republicanism has always been distinguished by its hirsute-
ness. The authorities of Prussia, Austria, and Italy, alike
recognize certain forms of hat as indicative of disaffection,
and fulminate against them accordingly. In some places
the wearer of a blouse runs a risk of being classed among
the suspects / and in others, he who would avoid the bureau
of police, must beware how he goes out in any but the
ordinary colours. Thus, democracy abroad, as at home,
tends towards personal singularity.

]^"or is this association of characteristics peculiar to
modern times, or to reformers of the State. It has always
existed ; and it has been manifested as much in religious
agitations as in political ones. Along with dissent from
the chief established opinions and arrangements, there has
ever been some dissent from the customary social practices.
The Puritans, disapproving of the long curls of the Cava-
liers, as of their principles, cut their own hair short, and so
gained the name of " Roundheads." The marked religious
nonconformity of the Quakers was accompanied by an
equally-marked nonconformity of manners — in attire, in
speech, in salutation. The early Moravians not only
believed differently, but at the same time dressed dif-
ferently, and lived differently, from their fellow Christians.

That the association between political independence

RELATION BETWEEN IDEAS AND COSTUMES. 63

and independence of personal conduct, is not a phenome-
non of to-day only, we may see alike in the appearance ol
Franklin at the French court in plain clothes, and in the
white hats worn by the last generation of radicals. Origi-
nality of nature is sure to show itself in more ways than
one. The mention of George Fox's suit of leather, or
Pestalozzi's school name, "Harry Oddity," will at once
suggest the remembrance that men who have in great
things diverged from the beaten track, have frequently
done so in small things likewise. Minor illustrations of
this truth may be gathered in almost every circle. We
believe that wrhoever will number up his reforming and
rationalist acquaintances, will find among them more than
the usual proportion of those who in dress or behaviour
exhibit some degree of what the world calls eccentricity.

If it be a fact that men of revolutionary aims in politics
or religion, are commonly revolutionists in custom also,
it is not less a fact that those whose office it is to uphold
established arrangements in State and Church, are also
those who most adhere to the social forms and obser-
vances bequeathed to us by past generations. Practices
elsewhere extinct still linger about the headquarters of
government. The monarch still gives assent to Acts of
Parliament in the old French of the Normans ; and Nor-
man French terms are still used in law. Wigs, such as
those we see depicted in old portraits, may yet be found
on the heads of judges and barristers. The Beefeaters
at the Tower wear the costume of Henry VHth's body-
guard. The University dress of the present year varies
but little from that worn soon after the Reformation.
The claret-coloured coat, knee-breeches, lace shirt frills,
ruffles, white silk stockings, and buckled shoes, which
once formed the usual attire of a gentleman, still survive
as the court-dress. And it need scarcely be said that at
levees and drawing-rooms, the ceremonies are prescribed

64: MANNERS AND FASHION.

with an exactness, and enforced with a rigour, not else
where to be found.

Can we consider these two series of coincidences as
accidental and unmeaning ? Must we not rather conclude
that some necessary relationship obtains between them ?
Are there not such things as a constitutional conservatism,
and a constitutional tendency to change ? Is there not a
class which clings to the old in all things ; and another
class so in love with progress as often to mistake novelty
for improvement ? Do we not find some men ready to
bow to established authority of whatever kind; while
others demand of every such authority its reason, and
reject it if it fails to justify itself? And must not the
minds thus contrasted tend to become respectively con-
formist and nonconformist, not only in politics and religion,
but in other things ? Submission, whether to a govern-
ment, to the dogmas of ecclesiastics, or to that code of
behaviour which society at large has set up, is essentially
of the same nature; and the sentiment which induces
resistance to the despotism of rulers, civil or spiritual, like-
wise induces resistance to the despotism of the world's
opinion. Look at them fundamentally, and all enactments,
alike of the legislature, the consistory, and the saloon— all
regulations, formal or virtual, have a common character :
they are all limitations of men's freedom. " Do this —
Refrain from that," are the blank formulas into which they
may all be written : and in each case the understanding is
that obedience will bring approbation here and paradise
hereafter ; while disobedience will entail imprisonment, or
sending to Coventry, or eternal torments, as the case may
be. And if restraints, however named, and through what-
ever apparatus of means exercised, are one in their action
upon men, it must happen that those who are patient under
one kind of restraint, are likely to be patient under another;
and conversely, that those impatient of restraint in general,

ORIGIN OF LAW, RELIGION, AND MANNERS. 65

will, on the average, tend to show their impatience in alJ
directions.

That Law, Religion, and Manners are thus related —
that their respective kinds of operation come under one
generalization — that they have in certain contrasted charac-
teristics of men a common support and a common danger
—will, however, be most clearly seen on discovering that
they have a common origin. Little as from present ap-
pearances we should suppose it, we shall yet find that at
first, the control of religion, the control of laws, and the
control of manners, were all one control. However in-
credible it may now seem, we believe it to be demonstrable
that the rules of etiquette, the provisions of the statute-
book, and the commands of the decalogue, have grown
from the same root. If we go far enough back into the
ages of primeval Fetishism, it becomes manifest that
originally Deity, Chief, and Master of the ceremonies were
identical. To make good these positions, and to show
their bearing on what is to follow, it will be necessary
here to traverse ground that is in part somewhat beaten,
and at first sight irrelevant to our topic. "We will pass
over it as quickly as consists with the exigencies of the
argument.

That the earliest social aggregations were ruled solely
by the will of the strong man, few dispute. That from the
strong man proceeded not only Monarchy, but the concep-
tion of a God, few admit : much as Carlyle and others have
said in evidence of it. If, however, those who are unable
to believe this, will lay aside the ideas of God and man in
which they have been educated, and study the aboriginal
deas of them, they will at least see some probability in
the hypothesis. Let them remember that before experi
ence had yet taught men to distinguish between the possi-
ble and the impossible ; and while they were ready on the

66 MANNERS AND FASHION.

slightest suggestion to ascribe unknown powers to any ob
ject and make a fetish of it ; their conceptions of human-
ity and its capacities were necessarily vague, and without
specific limits. The man who by unusual strength, or cun
ning, achieved something that others had failed to achieve,
or something which they did not understand, was considered
by them as differing from themselves ; and, as we see in the
belief of some Polynesians that only their chiefs have souls,
or in that of the ancient Peruvians that their nobles were di-
vine by birth, the ascribed difference was apt to be not one of
degree only, but one of kind.

Let them remember next, how gross were the notions
of God, or rather of gods, prevalent during the same era
and afterwards — how concretely gods were conceived as
men of specific aspects dressed in specific ways — how their
names were literally " the strong," " the destroyer," " the
powerful one," — how, according to the Scandinavian my-
thology, the "sacred duty of blood-revenge" was acted
on by the gods themselves, — and how they were not only
human in their vindictiveness, their cruelty, and their
quarrels with each other, but were supposed to have amours
on earth, and to consume the viands placed on their altars.
Add to which, that in various mythologies, Greek, Scandi-
navian, and others, the oldest beings are giants ; that ac-
cording to a traditional genealogy the gods, demi-gods,
and in some cases men, are descended from these after the
human fashion ; and that while in the East we hear of sons of
God who saw the daughters of men that they were fair,
the Teutonic myths tell of unions between the sons of men
and the daughters of the gods.

Let them remember, too, that at first the idea of death
differed widely from that which we have ; that there are
Btill tribes who, on the decease of one of their number, at-
tempt to make the corpse stand, and put food into his mouth ;
that the Peruvians had feasts at which the mummies of their

PRIMITIVE RELIGIOUS IDEAS. 67

dead Incas presided, when, as Prescott says, they paid atten-
tion " to these insensible remains as if they were instinct with
life ; " that among the Fejees it is believed that every enemy
has to be killed twice ; that the Eastern Pagans give exten-
sion and figure to the soul, and attribute to it all the same sub*
stances, both solid andliquid, of which our bodies are compos-
ed ; and that it is the custom among most barbarous races to
bury food, weapons, and trinkets along with the dead body,
under the manifest belief that it will presently need them.

Lastly, let them remember that the other world, as ori-
ginally conceived, is simply some distant part of this world
— some Elysian fields, some happy hunting-ground, accessi-
ble even to the living, and to which, after death, men
travel in anticipation of a life analogous in general charac-
ter to that which they led before. Then, co-ordinating these
general facts — the ascription of unknown powers to chiefs
and medicine men ; the belief in deities having human
forms, passions, and behaviour ; the imperfect comprehen-
sion of death as distinguished from life ; and the proximity
of the future abode to the present, both in position and
character — let them reflect whether they do not almost un-
avoidably suggest the conclusion that the aboriginal god
is the dead chief : the chief not dead in our sense, but
gone away carrying with him food and weapons to some
rumoured region of plenty, some promised land, whither he
had long intended to lead his followers, and whence he will
presently return to fetch them.

This hypothesis once entertained, is seen to harmonize
with all primitive ideas and practices. The sons of the dei-
fied chief reigning after him, it necessarily happens that all
early kings are held descendants of the gods; and the fact
that alike in Assyria, Egypt, among the Jews, Phoenicians,
and ancient Britons, kings' names were formed out of the
names of the gods, is fully explained. The genesis of Poly*
theism out of Fetishism, by the successive migrations of

68 MANNEKS AND FASHION.

the race of god-kings to the other world— -a genesis illus-
trated in the Greek mythology, alike by the precise gene-
alogy of the deities, and by the specifically asserted apothe-
osis of the later ones — tends further to bear it out. It ex-
plains the fact that in the old creeds, as in the still extant
creed of the Otaheitans, every family has its guardian
spirit, who is supposed to be one of their departed rela-
tives ; and that they sacrifice to these as minor gods — a
practice still pursued by the Chinese and even by the Rus-
sians. It is perfectly congruous with the Grecian myths
concerning the wars of the Gods with the Titans and their
final usurpation ; and it similarly agrees with the fact that
among the Teutonic gods proper was one Freir who came
among them by adoption, "but was born among the Vanes, a
somewhat mysterious other dynasty of gods, who had been
conquered and superseded by the stronger and more warlike
Odin dynasty." It harmonizes, too, with the belief that there
are different gods to different territories and nations, as there
were different chiefs ; that these gods contend for supremacy
as chiefs do; and it gives meaning to the boast of neighbour-
ing tribes — "Our god is greater than your god." It is con-
firmed by the notion universally current in early times, that
the gods come from this other abode, in which they common-
ly live, and appear among men — speak to them, help them,
punish them. And remembering this, it becomes manifest
that the prayers put up by primitive peoples to their gods for
aid in battle, are meant literally — that their gods are expect-
ed to come back from the other kingdom they are reigning
over, and once more fight the old enemies they had before
warred against so implacably ; and it needs but to name the
Iliad, to remind every one how thoroughly they believed the
expectation fulfilled.

All government, then, being originally that of the
strong man who has become a fetish by some manifestation oi
superiority, there arises, at his death — his supposed depar*

SEPARATION OF CIVIL FROM RELIGIOUS AUTHORITY. G9

tare on a long projected expedition, in which he is accom-
panied by his slaves and concubines sacrificed at his tomb
— there arises, then, the incipient division of religious from
political control, of civil rule from spiritual. His son be-
comes deputed chief during his absence ; his authority is
cited as that by which his son acts ; his vengeance is invok-
ed on all who disobey his son ; and his commands, as pre-
viously known or as asserted by his son, become the germ
of a moral code : a fact we shall the more clearly perceive
if we remember, that early moral codes inculcate mainly
the virtues of the warrior, and the duty of exterminating
some neighbouring tribe whose existence is an offence to
the deity.

From this point onwards, these two kinds of authority,
at first complicated together as those of principal and agent,
become slowly more and more distinct. As experience ac-
cumulates, and ideas of causation grow more precise, kings
lose their supernatural attributes ; and, instead of God-
king, become God-descended king, God-appointed king,
the Lord's anointed, the vicegerent of heaven, ruler reign-
ing by Divine right. The old theory, however, long clings
to men in feeling, after it has disappeared in name ; and
" such divinity doth hedge a king," that even now, many,
on first seing one, feel a secret surprise at finding him an
ordinary sample of humanity. The sacredness attaching
to royalty attaches afterwards to its appended institutions
— to legislatures, to laws. Legal and illegal are synony-
mous with right and wrong ; the authority of Parliament
is held unlimited ; and a lingering faith in governmental
power continually generates unfounded hopes from its en-
actments. Political scepticism, however, having destroyed
the divine iwrestige of royalty, goes on ever increasing,
and promises ultimately to reduce the State to a purely
secular institution, whose regulations are limited in their
sphere, and have no other authority than the general will

70 MANNERS AND FASHION.

Meanwhile, the religious control has been little by little
separating itself from the civil, both in its essence and in
its forms. While from the God-king of the savage have
arisen in one direction, secular rulers who, age by age,
have been losing the sacred attributes . men ascribed to
them ; there has arisen in another direction, the conception
of a deity, who, at first human in all things, has been grad-
ually losing human niateriality, human form, human passions,
human modes of action : until now, anthropomorphism has
become a reproach.

Along with this wide divergence in men's ideas of the
divine and civil ruler has been taking place a corresponding
divergence in the codes of conduct respectively proceeding
from them. While the king was a deputy-god — a governor
such as the Jews looked for in the Messiah — a governor
considered, as the Czar still is, " our God upon Earth," —
it, of course, followed that his commands were the supreme
rules. But as men ceased to believe in his supernatural
origin and nature, his commands ceased to be the highest ;
and there arose a distinction between the regulations made
by him, and the regulations handed down from the old
god-kings, who were rendered ever more sacred by time
and the accumulation of myths. Hence came respectively,
Law and Morality : the one growing ever more concrete,
the other more abstract ; the authority of the one ever on
the decrease, that of the other ever on the increase ; origi-
nally the same, but now placed daily in more marked an-
tagonism.

Simultaneously there has been going on a separation of
the institutions administering these two codes of conduct.
While they were yet one, of course Church and State were
one : the king was arch-priest, not nominally, but really —
alike the giver of new commands and the chief interpreter
of the old commands ; and the deputy-priests coming out
of his family were thus simply expounders of the dictates

SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND 8TATE. 71

of their ancestry : at first as recollected, and afterwards as
ascertained by professed interviews with them. This union
— which still existed practically during the middle ages,
when the authority of kings was mixed up with the author-
ity of the pope, when there were bishop-rulers having all
the powers of feudal lords, and when priests punished by
penances — has been, step by step, becoming less close.
Though monarchs are still " defenders of the faith,"
and ecclesiastical chiefs, they are but nominally such.
Though bishops still have civil power, it is not what they
once had. Protestantism shook loose the bonds of union ;
Dissent has long been busy in organizing a mechanism for
the exercise of religious control, wholly independent of
law ; in America, a separate organization for that purpose
already exists ; and if anything is to be hoped from the
Anti-State-Church Association — or, as it has been newly
named, " The Society for the Liberation of Religion from
State Patronage and Control " — we shall presently have a
separate organization here also,

Thus alike In authority, in essence, and in form, politi-
cal and spiritual rule have been ever more widely diverging
from the same root. That increasing division of labour
which marks the progress of society in other things, marks
it also in this separation of government into civil and reli-
gious; and if we observe how the morality which forms the
substance of religions in general, is beginning to be puri-
fied from the associated cseeds, we may anticipate that this
division will be ultimately carried much further.

Passing now to the third species of control — that of
Manners — we shall find that this, too, while it had a com-
mon genesis with the others, has gradually come to have a
distinct sphere and a special embodiment. Among early
aggregations of men before yet social observances existed,
the sole forms of courtesy known were the signs of sub-
mission to the strong man ; as the sole law was his will,
5

72 MANNERS AND FASHION.

and the sole religion the awe of his supposed supernatural-
ness. Originally, ceremonies were modes of behaviour to
the god-king. Our commonest titles have been derived
from his names. And all salutations were primarily wor-
ship paid to him. Let us trace out these truths in detail,
beginning with titles.

The fact already noticed, that the names of early kings
among divers races are formed by the addition of certain
syllables to the names of their gods — which certain sylla-
bles, like our Mac and Fitz, probably mean " son of," or
"descended from" — at once gives meaning to the terra
Father as a divine title. And when we read, in Selden,
that " the composition out of these names of Deities was
not only proper to Kings : their Grandes and more honora-
ble Subjects" (no doubt members of the royal race) "had
sometimes the like ; " we see how the term Father ■, prop-
erly used by these also, and by their multiplying descend-
ants, came to be a title used by the people in general. And
it is significant as bearing on this point, that among the
most barbarous nation in Europe, where belief in the di-
vine nature of the ruler still lingers, Father in this higher
sense is still a regal distinction. When, again, we remem-
ber how the divinity at first ascribed to kings was not a
complimentary fiction but a supposed fact ; and how, fur-
ther, under the Fetish philosophy the celestial bodies are
believed to be personages who once lived among men ; we
see that the appellations of oriental rulers, " Brother to the
Sun," <fcc, were probably once expressive of a genuine be-
lief; and have simply, like many other things, continued in
use after all meaning has gone out of them. We may
infer, too, that the titles God, Lord, Divinity, were given
to primitive rulers literally — that the nostra divinitas ap-
plied to the Roman emperors, and the various sacred des
ignations that have been borne by monarchs, down to the
still extant phrase, " Our Lord the King," are the dead and

DERIVATION OF HONORARY TITLES. 73

dying forms of what were once living facts. From these
names, God, Father, Lord, Divinity, originally belonging
to the God-king, and afterwards to God and the king, the
derivation of our commonest titles of respect is clearly
traceable-
There is reason to think that these titles were originally
proper names. Not only do we see among the Egyptians,
irhere Pharaoh was synonymous with king, and among the
Romans, where to be Caesar, meant to be Emperor, that
the proper names of the greatest men were transferred to
their successors, and so became class names ; but in the
Scandinavian mythology we may trace a human title of
honour up to the proper name of a divine personage. In
Anglo-Saxon bealdor, or baldor, means Lord ; and Balder
is the name of the favourite of Odin's sons — the gods who
with him constitute the Teutonic Pantheon. How these
names of honour became general is easily understood.
The relatives of the primitive kings — the grandees de-
scribed by Selden as having names formed on those of the
gods, and shown by this to be members of the divine race
— necessarily shared in the epithets, such as Lord, descrip-
tive of superhuman relationships and nature. Their ever-
multiplying offspring inheriting these, gradually rendered
them comparatively common. And then they came to be
applied to every man of power : partly from the fact that,
in these early days when men conceived divinity simply as
a stronger kind of humanity, great persons could be called
by divine epithets with but little exaggeration ; partly from
the fact that the unusually potent were apt to be consid-
ered as unrecognized or illegitimate descendants of " the
strong, the destroyer, the powerful one ;" and partly, also,
from compliment and the desire to propitiate.

Progressively as superstition diminished, this last be-
came the sole cause. And if we remember that it is the
nature of compliment, as we daily hear it, to attribute

74 MANNERS AND FASHION.

more tk-.m is due — that in the constantly widening applica-
tion of "esquire," in the perpetual repetition of " your
honour" by the fawning Irishman, and in the use of the
name " gentleman" to any coalheaver or dustman by the
lower classes of London, we have current examples of the
depreciation of titles consequent on compliment — and that
in barbarous times, when the wish to propitiate was stronger
than now, this eflect must have been greater ; we shall see
that there naturally arose an extensive misuse of all early
distinctions. Hence the facts, that the Jews called Herod
a god ; that Father, in its higher sense, was a term used
among them by servants to masters ; that Lord was appli-
cable to any person of worth and power. Hence, too, the
fact that, in the later periods of the Roman Empire, every
man saluted his neighbour as Dominus and Hex*

But it is in the titles of the middle ages, and in the
growth of our modern ones out of them, that the process
is most clearly seen. Heir, Don, Signior, Seigneur, Sen-
nor, were all originally names of rulers — of feudal lords.
By the complimentary use of these names to all who could,
on any pretence, be supposed to merit them, and by suc-
cessive degradations of them from each step in the descent
to a still lower one, they have come to be common forms
of address. At first the phrase in which a serf acosted his
despotic chief, mein herr is now familiarly applied in Ger-
many to ordinary people. The Spanish title Don, once
proper to noblemen and gentlemen only, is now accorded
to all classes. So, too, is it with Signior in Italy. Seigneur,
and Monseigneur, by contraction in Sieur and Mo)isieur,
have produced the term of respect claimed by every
Frenchman. And whether Sire be or be not a like con-
traction of Signior, it is clear that, as it was borne by sun-
dry of the ancient feudal lords of France, who, as Selden
says, " affected rather to bee stiled by the name of Sin
than Baron, as De Sire do Jfontmorencie, Le Sire de

DEPRECIATION OF HONORARY TITLES. 75

Beauieu, and the like," and as it has been commonly used
to monarchs, our word Sir, which is derived from it, ori-
ginally meant lord or king. Thus, too, is it with feminine
titles. Lady, which, according to Home Tooke, means ex-
alted, and was at first given only to the few, is now given
to all women of education. Dame, once an honourable
name to which, in old books, we find the epithets of " high-
born " and " stately " affixed, has now, by repeated widen-
ings of its application, become relatively a term of contempt.
And if we trace the compound of this, ma Dame, through
its contractions — Madam, ma'am, mam, mum, we find that
the " Yes'm " of Sally to her mistress is originally equiva-
lent to "Yes, my exalted," or "Yes, your highness."
Throughout, therefore, the genesis of words of honour has
been the same. Just as with the Jews and with the Ro-
mans, has it been with the modern Europeans. Tracing
these everyday names to their primitive significations of
lord and king, and remembering that in aboriginal societies
these were applied only to the gods and their descendants,
we arrive at the conclusion that our familiar Sir and Mon-
sieur are, in their primary and expanded meanings, terms
of adoration.

Further to illustrate this gradual depreciation of titles,
and to confirm the inference drawn, it may be well to no-
tice in passing, that the oldest of them have, as might be
expected, been depreciated to the greatest extent. Thus,
Master — a word proved by its derivation and by the simi-
larity of the connate words in other languages (Fr., maitre
for master ; Russ., master / Dan., meester / Ger., meister)
to have been one of the earliest in use for expressing
lordship — has now become applicable to children only,
and under the modification of " Mister," to persons next,
above the labourer. Again, knighthood, the oldest kind
of dignity, is also the lowest ; and Knight Bachelor, which
is the lowest order of knighthood, is more ancient than

76 MANNEKS AND FASHION.

any other of the orders. Similarly, too, with the peerage
Baron is alike the earliest and least elevated of its divi*
sions. This continual degradation of all names of honor has,
from time to time, made it requisite to introduce new ones
having that distinguishing effect which the originals had
lost by generality of use ; just as our habit of misapplying
superlatives has, by gradually destroying their force, entail-
ed the need for fresh ones. And if, within the last thousand
years, this process has produced effects thus marked, we
may readily conceive how, during previous thousands, the
titles of gods and demi-gods came to be used to all persons
exercising power ; as they have since come to be used to
persons of respectability.

If from names of honour we turn to phrases of honour,
we find similar facts. The Oriental styles of address, ap-
plied to ordinary people — " I am your slave," " All I have is
yours," " I am your sacrifice " — attribute to the individual
spoken to the same greatness that Monsieur and My Lord
do : they ascribe to him the character of an all-powerful
ruler, so immeasurably superior to the speaker as to be his
owner. So, likewise, with the Polish expressions of respect
— " I throw myself under your feet," " I kiss your feet."
In our now meaningless subscription to a formal letter —
" Your most obedient servant," — the same thing is visible.
Nay, even in the familiar signature " Yours faithfully," the
" yours," if interpreted as originally meant, is the expres-
sion of a slave to his master.

All these dead forms were once living embodiments of
fact — were primarily the genuine indications of that submis-
sion to authority which they verbally assert ; were after-
wards naturally used by the weak and cowardly to pro-
pitiate those above them ; gradually grew to be considered
the due of such ; and, by a continually wider misuse, have
lost their meanings, as Sir and Master have done. That,
like titles, they were in the beginning used only to the

ORIGIN OF PHRASES OF HONOUR. 7?

God-kiDg, is indicated by the fact that, like titles, they were
subsequently used in common to God and the king. Re-
ligious worship has ever largely consisted of professions of
obedience, of being God's servants, of belonging to him to
do what he will with. Like titles, therefore, these common
phrases of honour had a devotional origin.

Perhaps, however, it is in the use of the word you as a
singular pronoun that the popularizing of what were once
supreme distinctions is most markedly illustrated. Thi?
speaking of a single individual in the plural, was origi
nally an honour given only to the highest — was the recipro-
cal of the imperial " we " assumed by such. Yet now, by
being applied to successively lower and lower classes, it
has become all but universal. Only by one sect of Chris-
tians, and in a few secluded districts, is the primitive thou
still used. And the you, in becoming common to all ranks
has simultaneously lost every vestige of the honour once
attaching to it.

But the genesis of Manners out of forms of allegiance
and worship, is above all shown in men's modes of salutation.
Note first the significance of the word. Among the Romans,
the salutatio was a daily homage paid by clients and infe-
riors to superiors. This was alike the case with civilians
and in the army. The very derivation of our word, there-
fore, is suggestive of submission. Passing to particular
forms of obeisance (mark the word again), let us begin with
the Eastern one of baring the feet. This was, primarily, a
mark of reverence, alike to a god and a king. The act of
Moses before the burning bush, and the practice of Mahom-
etans, who are sworn on the Koran with their shoes off, ex-
emplify the one employment of it ; the custom of the Per-
sians, who remove their shoes on entering the presence of
their monarch, exemplifies the other. As usual, however,
this homage, paid next to inferior rulers, has descended
from grade to grade. In India, it is a common mark of

78 MANNERS AND FASHION

respect ; a polite man in Turkey always leaves his shoes at
the door, while the lower orders of Turks never enter the
presence of their superiors but in their stockings ; and in
Japan, this baring of the feet is an ordinary salutation of
man to man.

Take another case. Selden, describing the ceremonies
of the Romans, says : — " For whereas it was usual either to
kiss the Images of their Gods, or adoring them, to stand
somewhat off before them, solemnly moving the right hand
to the lips, and then, casting it as if they had cast kisses, to
turne the body on the same hand (which was the right forme
of Adoration), it grew also by custom, first that the emperors,
being next to Deities, and by some accounted as Deities,
had the like done to them in acknowledgment of their
Greatness." If, now, we call to mind the awkward salute
of a village school-boy, made by putting his open hand up
to his face and describing a semicircle with his forearm ;
and if we remember that the salute thus used as a form of
reverence in country districts, is most likely a remnant of
the feudal times ; we shall see reason for thinking that our
common wave of the hand to a friend across the street, re-
presents what was primarily a devotional act.

Similarly have originated all forms of respect depend-
ing upon inclinations of the body. Entire prostration is
the aboriginal sign of submission. The passage of Scrip-
ture, " Thou hast put all under his feet," and that other one,
so suggestive in its anthropomorphism, "The Lord said
unto my Lord, sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine
enemies thy footstool," imply, what the Assyrian sculptures
fully bear out, that it was the practice of the ancient god-
kings of the East to trample upon the conquered. And
when we bear in mind that there are existing savages
who signify submission by placing the neck under the foot
of the person submitted to, it becomes obvious that all
prostration, especially when accompanied by kissing the

HOW FOEMS OF SALUTATION HAVE ORIGINATED. 79

ruot, expressed a willingness to be trodden upon — was an at*
tempt to mitigate wrath by saying, in signs, " Tread on me
if you will." Remembering, further, that kissing the foot,
as of the Pope and of a saint's statue, still continues in
Europe to be a mark of extreme reverence ; that prostra
tion to feudal lords was once general ; and that its dis
appearance must have taken place, not abruptly, but by
gradual modification into something else ; we have ground
for deriving from these deepest of humiliations all inclina-
tions of respect ; especially as the transition is traceable.
The reverence of a Russian serf, who bends his head to
the ground, and the salaam of the Hindoo, are abridged
prostrations ; a bow is a short salaam ; a nod is a short
bow.

Should any hesitate to admit this conclusion, then per-
haps, on being reminded that the lowest of these obeisances
are common where the submission is most abject; that
among ourselves the profundity of the bow marks the
amount of respect ; and lastly, that the bow is even now
used devotionally in our churches — by Catholics to their
altars, and by Protestants at the name of Christ — they Will
see sufficient evidence for thinking that this salutation also
was originally worship.

The same may be said, too, of the curtsy, or courtesy,
as it is otherwise written. Its derivation from courtoisie,
courteousness, that is, behaviour like that at court, at once
shows that it was primarily the reverence paid to a mon-
arch. And if we call to mind that falling upon the knees,
or upon one knee, has been a common obeisance of subjects
to rulers ; that in ancient manuscripts and tapestries, ser-
vants are depicted as assuming this attitude while offering
the dishes to their masters at table ; and that this same at-
titude is assumed towards our own queen at every presen-
tation ; we may infer, what the character of the curtsy
itself suggests, that it is an abridged act of kneeling. As

80 MANNEKS ANr jTASHION.

the word has been contracted from courtoisie into curtsy ,
so the motion has been contracted from a placing of the
knee on the floor, to a lowering of the knee towards the
floor. Moreover, when we compare the curtsy of a lady
with the awkward one a peasant girl makes, which, if con-
tinued, would bring her down on both knees, we may
see in this last a remnant of that greater reverence re-
quired of serfs. And when, from considering that simple
kneeling of the West, still represented by the curtsy, we
pass Eastward, and note the attitude of the Mahomedan
worshipper, who not only kneels but bows his head to the
ground, we may infer that^the curtsy also, is an evanescent
form of the aboriginal prostration.

In further evidence of this it may be remarked, that
there has but recently disappeared from the salutations of
men, an action having the same proximate derivation with
the curtsy. That backward sweep of the foot with which
the conventional stage-sailor accompanies his bow — a move-
ment which prevailed generally in past generations, when
" a bow and a scrape " went together, and which, within
the memory of living persons, was made by boys to their
schoolmaster with the effect of wearing a hole in the floor
— is pretty clearly a preliminary to going on one knee. A
motion so ungainly could never have been intentionally in-
troduced ; even if the artificial introduction of obeisances
were possible. Hence we must regard it as the remnant of
something antecedent : and that this something antecedent
was humiliating may be inferred from the phrase, " scraping
an acquaintance ; " which, being used to denote the gaining
of favour by obsequiousness, implies that the scrape was
considered a mark of servility — that is, of serf -Wit y.

Consider, again, the uncovering of the head. Almost
everywhere this has been a sign of reverence, alike in tem-
ples and before potentates ; and it yet preserves among ua
some of its original meaning. Whether it rains, hails, 01

OEIGIN OF CEKEMONIAL ATTITUDES. 8.1

shines, you must keep your head bare while speaking to the
monarch ; and on no plea may you remain covered in a
place of worship. As usual, however, this ceremony, at
tirst a submission to gods and kings, has become in process
of time a common civility. Once an acknowledgment of
another's unlimited supremacy, the removal of the hat is
now a salute accorded to very ordinary persons, and that
uncovering, originally reserved for entrance into " the house
of God," good manners now dictates on entrance into the
house of a common labourer.

Standing, too, as a mark of respect, has undergone like
extensions in its application. Shown, by the practice in
our churches, to be intermediate between the humiliation
signified by kneeling and the self-respect which sitting im-
plies, and used at courts as a form of homage when more active
demonstrations of it have been made, this posture is now em-
ployed in daily life to show consideration ; as seen alike in
the attitude of a servant before a master, and in that rising
which politeness prescribes on the entrance of a visitor.

Many other threads of evidence might have been woven
into our argument. As, for example, the significant fact,
that if we trace back our still existing law of primogeni-
ture— if we consider it as displayed by Scottish clans, in
which not only ownership but government ^devolved from
the beginning on the eldest son of the eldest — if we look
further back, and observe that the old titles of lordship,
Signor, Seigneur, Sennor, Sire, Sieur, all originally mean,
senior, or elder — if we go Eastward, and find that Sheick
has a like derivation, and that the Oriental names for priests,
as JPir, for instance, are literally interpreted old man — if
we note in Hebrew records how primeval is the ascribed
superiority of the first-born, how great the authority of
elders, and how sacred the memory of patriarchs — and if,
then, we remember that among divine titles are " Ancient
of Days," and w Father of Gods and men ; " — we see how

82 • MANNERS AND FASHION.

completely these facts harmonize with the hypothesis, that
the aboriginal god is the first man sufficiently great to be-
come a tradition, the earliest whose power and deeds made
him remembered ; that hence antiquity unavoidably became
associated with superiority, and age with nearness in blood
to " the powerful one ; " that so there naturally arose that
domination of the eldest which characterizes all history,
and that theory of human degeneracy which even yet sur-
vives.

We might further dwell on the facts, that Lord signi-
fies high-born, or, asv the same root gives a word meaning
heaven, possibly heaven-born ; that, before it became com-
mon, Sir or Sire, as well as Father, was the distinction of
a priest ; that worship, originally worth-ship — a term of
respect that has been used commonly, as well as to magis-
trates— is also our term for the act of attributing greatness
or worth to the Deity; so that to ascribe worth-ship to a
man is to worship him. We might make much of the evi-
dence that all early governments are more or less distinct-
ly theocratic ; and that among ancient Eastern nations even
the commonest forms and customs appear to have been in-
fluenced by religion. We might enforce our argument re-
specting the derivation of ceremonies, by tracing out the
aboriginal obeisance made by putting dust on the head,
which probably symbolizes putting the head in the dust :
by affiliating the practice prevailing among certain tribes,
of doing another honour by presenting him with a portion
of hair torn from the head — an act which seems tantamount
to saying, " I am your slave ; " by investigating the Oriental
custom of giving to a visitor any object he speaks of ad-
miringly, which is pretty clearly a carrying out the compli*
ment, " All I have is yours."

Without enlarging, however, on these and many minor
facts, we venture to think that the evidence already assign-
ed is sufficient to justify our position, Had the proofs been

THREEFOLD BRANCHING OF PRIMITIVE GOVERNMENT. 83

few or of one kind, little faith could have been placed in
the inference. But numerous as they are, alike in the case
of titles, in that of complimentary phrases, and in that of
salutes — similar and simultaneous, too, as the process of de-
preciation has been in all of these ; the evidences become
strong by mutual confirmation. And when we recollect,
also, that not only have the results of this process been vis-
ible in various nations and in all times, but that they are
occurring among ourselves at the present moment, and that
the causes assigned for previous dej)reciations may be seen
daily working out other ones — when we recollect this, it
becomes scarcely possible to doubt that the process has
been as alleged ; and that our ordinary words, acts, and
phrases of civility were originally acknowledgments of sub-
mission to another's omnipotence.

Thus the general doctrine, that all kinds of government
exercised over men were at first one government — that the
political, the religious, and the ceremonial forms of control
are divergent branches of a general and once indivisible
control — begins to look tenable. When, with the above
facts fresh in mind, we read primitive records, and find that
" there were giants in those days " — when we remember
that in Eastern traditions Nimrod, among others, figures
in all the characters of giant, king, and divinity — when we
turn to the sculptures exhumed by Mr. Layard, and con-
templating in them the effigies of kings driving over
enemies, trampling on prisoners, and adored by prostrate
slaves, then observe how their actions correspond to the
primitive names for the divinity, " the strong," " the
destroyer," " the powerful one " — when we find that the
earliest temples were also the residences of the kings — and
when, lastly, we discover that among races of men still liv-
ing, there are current superstitions analogous to those which
old records and old buildings indicate ; we begin to realize
whe probability of the hypothesis that has been set forth.

8i MANNERS AND FASHION.

Going back, in imagination, to the remote era when
men's theories of things were yet unformed ; and conceiv-
ing to ourselves the conquering chief as dimly figured in
ancient myths, and poems, and ruins ; we may see that ah
rules of conduct whatever spring from his will. Alike
legislator and judge, all quarrels among his subjects are
decided by him ; and his words become the Law. Awe of
him is the incipient Religion ; and his maxims furnish its
first precepts. Submission is made to him in the forms
he prescribes ; and these give birth to Manners. From
the first, time developes political allegiance and the ad-
ministration of justice ; from the second, the worship
of a being whose personality becomes ever more vague,
and the inculcation of precepts ever more abstract ;
from the third, forms of honour and the rules of eti-
quette.

In conformity with the law of evolution of all organ-
ized bodies, that general functions are gradually separated
into the special functions constituting them, there have
grown up in the social organism for the better performance
of the governmental office, an apparatus of law-courts,
judges, and barristers ; a national church, with its bishops
and priests ; and a system of caste, titles, and ceremonies,
administered by society at large. By the first, overt
aggressions are cognized and punished ; by the second,
the disposition to commit such aggressions is in some
degree checked ; by the third, those minor breaches of
good conduct, which the others do not notice, are de-
nounced and chastised. Law and Religion control be-
haviour in its essentials : Manners control it in its details.
For regulating those daily actions which are too nu-
merous and too unimportant to be officially directed,
there comes into play this subtler set of restraints. And
when we consider what these restraints are — when we
analyze the words, and phrases, and salutes employed

GOVERNMENT REQUIRED BY THE ABORIGINAL MAN. 85

we see that in origin as in effect, the system is a setting
up of temporary governments between all men wTho comp
in contact, for the purpose of better managing the inter-
course between them.

From the proposition, that these several kinds of gov-
ernment are essentially one, both in genesis and function,
may be deduced several important corollaries, directly
bearing on our special topic.

Let us first notice, that there is not only a common
origin and office for all forms of rule, but a common neces-
sity for them. The aboriginal man, coming fresh
from the killing of bears and from lying in ambush for
his enemy, has, by the necessities of his condition, a nature
requiring to be curbed in its every impulse. Alike in war
and in the chase, his daily discipline has been that of
sacrificing other creatures to his own needs and passions.
His character, bequeathed to him by ancestors who led
similar lives, is moulded by this discipline — is fitted to this
existence. The unlimited selfishness, the love of inflicting
pain, the bloodthirstiness, thus kept active, he brings with
him into the social state. These dispositions put him in
constant danger of conflict with his equally savage neigh-
bour. In small things as in great, in words as in deeds,
he is aggressive ; and is hourly liable to the aggressions
of others like natured. Only, therefore, by the most
rigorous control exercised over all actions, can the primi-
tive unions of men be maintained. There must be a
ruler strong, remorseless, and of indomitable will ; there
must be a creed terrible in its threats to the disobedi-
ent ; and there must be the most servile submission of
all inferiors to superiors. The law must be cruel ; the
religion must be stern ; the ceremonies must be strict.

The co-ordinate necessity for these several kinds of re-
itraint might be largely illustrated from history were there

&6 MANNEKS AND FASHION.

space. Suffice it to point out, that where the civil powei
has been weak, the multiplication of thieves, assassins, and
banditti, has indicated the approach of social dissolution ;
that when, from the corruptness of its ministry, religion
has lost its influence, as it did just before the Flagellants
appeared, the State has been endangered ; and that the
disregard of established social observances has ever been
an accompaniment of political revolutions. Whoever
doubts the necessity for a government of manners propor-
tionate in strength to the co-existing political and religious
governments, will be convinced on calling to mind that
until recently even elaborate codes of behaviour failed to
keep gentlemen from quarrelling in the streets and fighting
duels in taverns ; and on remembering further, that even now
people exhibit at the doors of a theatre, where there is no
ceremonial law to rule them, a degree of aggressiveness
which would produce confusion if carried into social inter-
course.

As might be expected, we find that, having a common
origin and like general functions, these several controlling
agencies act during each era with similar degrees of vigour.
Under the Chinese despotism, stringent and multitudinous
in its edicts and harsh in the enforcement of them, and
associated with which there is an equally stern domestic
despotism exercised by the eldest surviving male of the
family, there exists a system of observances alike compli-
cated and rigid. There is a tribunal of ceremonies. Pre-
vious to presentation at court, ambassadors pass many days
in practising the required forms. Social intercourse is
eumbered by endless compliments and obeisances. Class
distinctions are strongly marked by badges. The chief
regret on losing an only son is, that there will be no one to
perform the sepulchral rites. And if there wants a definite
measure of the respect paid to social ordinances, we have
it in the torture to which ladies submit in having their feet

CEREMONIAL CONTROL IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 37

crushed. In India, and indeed throughout the East, there
exists a like connection between the pitiless tyranny of
rulers, the dread terrors of immemorial creeds, and the
rigid restraint of unchangeable customs : the caste regula-
tions contiuue still unalterable ; the fashions of clothes and
furniture have remained the same for ages ; suttees are so
ancient as to be mentioned by Strabo and Diodorus Siculus;
justice is still administered at the palace-gates as of old ;
in short, " every usage is a precept of religion and a maxim
of jurisprudence."

A similar relationship of phenomena was exhibited in
Europe during the Middle Ages. While all its govern-
ments were autocratic, while feudalism held sway, while
the Church was unshorn of its power, while the criminal
code was full of horrors and the hell of the popular creed
full of terrors, the rules of behaviour were both more
numerous and more carefully conformed to than now. Dif-
ferences of dress marked divisions of rank. Men were
limited by law to a certain width of shoe-toes ; and no one
below a specified degree might wear a cloak less than so
many inches long. The symbols on banners and shields
were carefully attended to. Heraldry was an important
branch of knowledge. Precedence was strictly insisted on.
And those various salutes of which we now use the abridg-
ments were gone through in full. Even during our own
last century, with its corrupt House of Commons and little-
curbed monarchs, we may mark a correspondence of social
formalities. Gentlemen were still distinguished from lower
classes by dress ; people sacrificed themselves to inconven-
ient requirements — as powder, hooped petticoats, and tow-
ering head-dresses ; and children addressed their parents
as Sir and Madam.

A further corollary naturally following this last, and
almost, indeed, forming part of it, is, that these several
kinds of government decrease in stringency at the same

88 MANNERS AND FASHION.

rate. Simultaneously with the decline in the influence of
priesthoods, and in the fear of eternal torments — simulta-
neously with the mitigation of political tyranny, the growth
of popular power, and the amelioration of criminal codes ;
has taken place that diminution of formalities and that
fading of distinctive marks, now so observable. Looking
at home, we may note that there is less attention to prece-
dence than there used to be. No one in our day ends an
interview with the phrase " your humble servant." The
employment of the word Sir, once general in social inter-
course, is at present considered bad breeding ; and on the
occasions calling for them, it is held vulgar to use the
words " Your Majesty," or " Your Royal Highness," more
than once in a conversation. People no longer formally drink
each other's healths ; and even the taking wine with each
other at dinner has ceased to be fashionable. The taking-
off of hats between gentlemen has been gradually falling
into disuse. Even when the hat is removed, it is no longer
swept out at arm's length, but is simply lifted. Hence the
remark made upon us by foreigners, that we take off our
hats less than any other nation in Europe—a remark that
should be coupled with the other, that we are the freest
nation in Europe.

As already implied, this association of facts is not acci-
dental. These titles of address and modes of salutation,
bearing about them, as they all do, something of that ser-
vility which marks their origin, become distasteful in pro-
portion as men become more independent themselves, and
sympathise more with the independence of others. The
feeling which makes the modern gentleman tell the labourer
standing bareheaded before him to put on his hat — the
feeling which gives us a dislike to those who cringe and
fawn — the feeling which makes us alike assert our own dig-
nity and respect that of others — the feeling which thus
leads us more and more to discountenance all forms and

DECLINE OF CEREMONIAL INFLUENCE. 89

names which confess inferiority and submission ; is the sama
feeling which resists despotic power and inaugurates popu-
lar government, denies the authority of the Church anc
establishes the right of private judgment.

A fourth fact, akin to the foregoing, is, that these sev«
eral kinds of government not only decline together, but
corrupt together. By the same process that a Court of
Chancery becomes a place not for the administration of
justice, but for the withholding of it — by the same process
that a national church, from being an agency for moral con-
trol, comes to be merely a thing of formulas and tithes and
bishoprics — by this same process do titles and ceremonies
that once had a meaning and a power become empty forms.

Coats of arms which served to distinguish men in bat-
tle, now figure on the carriage panels of retired grocers,
Once a badge of high military rank, the shoulder-knot has
become, on the modern footman, a mark of servitude,
The name Banneret, which once marked a partially-created
Baron — a Baron who had passed his military " little go " —
is now, under the modification of Baronet, applicable to
any one favoured by wealth or interest or party feeling.
Knighthood has so far ceased to be an honour, that men
now honour themselves by declining it. The military dig-
nity Escuyer has, in the modern Esquire, become a wholly
unmilitary affix. Not only do titles, and phrases, and sa-
lutes cease to fulfil their original functions, but the whole
apparatus of social forms tends to become useless for its
original purpose — the facilitation of social intercourse.
Those most learned in ceremonies, and most precise in the
observance of them, are not always the best behaved ; as
those deepest read in creeds and scriptures are not there-
fore the most religious ; nor those who have the clearest
notions of legality and illegality, the most honest. Just
as lawyers are of all men the least noted for probity ; aa
cathedral towns have a lower moral character than most

90 MANNERS AND FASHION.

others ; so, if Swift is to be believed, courtiers are " the
most insignificant race of people that the island can afford,
and with the smallest tincture of good manners."

But ■ perhaps it is in that class of social observances
comprehended under the term Fashion, which we must
here discuss parenthetically, that this process of corruption
is seen with the greatest distinctness. As contrasted with
Manners, which dictate our minor acts in relation to other
persons, Fashion dictates our minor acts in relation to our-
selves. While the one prescribes that part of our deport-
ment which directly affects our neighbours ; the other pre-
scribes that part of our deportment which is primarily per-
sonal, and in which our neighbours are concerned only as
spectators. Thus distinguished as they are, however, the
two have a common source. For while, as we have shown,
Manners originate by imitation of 4,ne behaviour pursued
towards the great ; Fashion originates by imitation of the
behaviour of the great. While the one has its derivation
in the titles, phrases, and salutes used to those in power ;
the other is derived from the habits and appearances exhib'
ited by those in power.

The Carrib mother who squeezes her child's head into
a shape like that of the chief; the young savage who makes,
marks on himself similar to the scars carried by the war-
riors of his tribe (which is probably the origin of tattoo-
ing) ; the Highlander who adopts the plaid worn by the
head of his clan ; the courtiers who affect greyness, or limp,
or cover their necks, in imitation of their king ; and the
people who ape the courtiers ; are alike acting under a kind
of government connate with that of Manners, and, like it
too, primarily beneficial. For notwithstanding the num-
berless absurdities into which this copyism has led the peo-
ple, from nose-rings to ear-rings, from painted faces to
beauty-spots, from shaven heads to powdered wigs, from
filed teeth and stained nails to bell-girdles, peaked shoes,

CORRUPTION OF THE CEREMONIAL RULE. 91

and breeches stuffed with bran, — it must yet be concluded
that as the strong men, the successful men, the men of will
intelligence, and originality, who have got to the top, are
on the average, more likely to show judgment in their hab
its and tastes than the mass, the imitation of such is advan-
tageous.

By and by, however, Fashion, corrupting like these
other forms of rule, almost wholly ceases to be an imitation
of the best, and becomes an imitation of quite other than
the best. As those who take orders are not those having
a special fitness for the priestly office, but those who see
their way to a living by it ; as legislators and public func-
tionaries do not become such by virtue of their political
insight and power to rule, but by virtue of birth, acreage,
and class influence ; so, the self-elected clique who set the
fashion, gain this prerogative, not by their force of nature,
their intellect, their higher worth or better taste, but gain
it solely by their unchecked assumption. Among the ini-
tiated are to be found neither the noblest in rank, the
chief in power, the best cultured, the most refined, nor
those of greatest genius, wit, or beauty ; and their re-
unions, so far from being superior to others, are noted
for their inanity. Yet, by the example of these sham
great, and not by that of the truly great, does society at
large now regulate its goings and comings, its hours, its
dress, its small usages. As a natural consequence, these
have generally little or none of that suitableness which the
theory of fashion implies they should have. But instead
of a continual progress towards greater elegance and con-
venience, which might be expected to occur did people
copy the ways of the really best, or follow their own ideas
zf propriety, we have a reign of mere whim, of unreason,
of change for the sake of change, of wanton oscillations
from either extreme to the other — a reign of usages with-
out meaning, times without fitness, dress without taste

02 MANNERS AND FASHION.

And thus life d la mode, instead of being life conducted in
the most rational manner, is life regulated by spendthrifts
and idlers, milliners and tailors, dandies and silly women.

To these several corollaries — -that the various orders of
control exercised over men have a common origin and a
common function, are called out by co-ordinate necessitiea
and co-exist in like stringency, decline together and corrupt
together — it now only remains to add that they become need-
less together. Consequent as all kinds of government are
upon the unfitness of the aboriginal man for social life ; and
diminishingin coerciveness as they all do in proportion as this
unfitness diminishes j they must one and all come to an end as
humanity acquires complete adaptation to its new conditions.
That discipline of circumstances which has already wrought
out such great changes in us, must go on eventually to
work out yet greater ones. That daily curbing of the low-
er nature and culture of the higher, which out of cannibals
and devil worshippers has evolved philanthropists, lovers
of peace, and haters of superstition, cannot fail to evolve out
of these, men as much superior to them as they are to their
progenitors. The causes that have produced past modifica-
tions are still in action ; must continue in action as long as
there exists any incongruity between man's desires and the
requirements of the- social state ; and must eventually make
him organically fit for the social state. As it is now need-
less to forbid man-eating and Fetishism, so will it ultimate-
ly become needless to forbid murder, theft, and the minor
offences of our criminal code. When human nature has
grown into conformity with the moral law, there will need
no judges and statute-books ; when it spontaneously takes
the right course in all things, as in some things it does al-
ready, prospects of future reward or punishment will not
be wanted as incentives ; and when fit behaviour has become
instinctive, there will need no code of ceremonies to say
how behaviour shall be regulated.

REVOLT AGAINST CEREMONIAL RULE. 93

Thus, then, may be recognised the meaning, the natural
ness, the necessity of those various eccentricities of reform
ers which we set out by describing. They are not acci-
dental ; they are not mere personal caprices, as people are
apt to suppose. On the contrary, they are inevitable re-
sults of the law of relationship above illustrated. That
community of genesis, function, and decay which all forms
of restraint exhibit, is simply the obverse of the fact at
first pointed out, that they have in two sentiments of hu-
man nature a common preserver and a common destroyer.
Awe of power originates and cherishes them all : love of
freedom undermines and periodically weakens them all.
The one defends despotism and asserts the supremacy of
laws, adheres to old creeds and supports ecclesiastical au-
thority, pays respect to titles and conserves forms ; the
other, putting rectitude above legality, achieves periodical
instalments of political liberty, inaugurates Protestantism
and works out its consequences, ignores the senseless dic-
tates of Fashion and emancipates men from dead customs.

To the true reformer no institution is sacred, no belief
above criticism. Everything shall conform itself to equity
and reason ; nothing shall be saved by its prestige. Con-
ceding to each man liberty to pursue his own ends and sat-
isfy his own tastes, he demands for himself like liberty ; and
consents to no restrictions on this, save those which other
men's equal claims involve. No matter whether it be an
ordinance of one man, or an ordinance of all men, if it
trenches on his legitimate sphere of action, he denies its
validity. The tyranny that would impose on him a partic-
ular style of dress and a set mode of behaviour, he resists
equally with the tyranny that would limit his buyings and
/sellings, or dictate his creed. Whether the regulation be
formally made by a legislature, or informally made by so-
ciety at large— whether the penalty for disobedience be im-
prisonment, or frowns and social ostracism, he sees to be a

94 MANNERS AND FASHION.

question of no moment. He will utter his belief notwith
standing the threatened punishment ; he will break conven-
tions spite of the petty persecutions that will be visited on
him. Show him that his actions are inimical to his fellow-
men, and he will pause. Prove that he is disregarding
their legitimate claims — that he is doing what in the nature
of things must produce unhappiness ; and he will alter his
course. But until you do this — until you demonstrate that
his proceedings are essentially inconvenient or inelegant,
essentially irrational, unjust, or ungenerous, he will perse-
vere.

Some, indeed, argue that his conduct is unjust and un-
generous. They say that he has no right to annoy other
people by his whims ; that the gentleman to whom his let-
ter comes with no " Esq." appended to the address, and the
lady whose evening party he enters with gloveless hands,
are vexed at what they consider his want of respect, or want
of breeding ; that thus his eccentricities cannot be indulged
save at the expense of his neighbours' feelings ; and that
hence his nonconformity is in plain terms selfishness.

He answers that this position, if logically developed,
would deprive men of all liberty whatever. Each must
conform all his acts to the public taste, and not his own.
The public taste on every point having been once ascer-
tained, men's habits must thenceforth remain for ever
fixed ; seeing that no man can adopt other habits without
sinning against the public taste, and giving people. disagree-
able feelings. Consequently, be it an era of pig-tails or high-
heeled shoes, of starched ruffs or trunk-hose, all must con-
tinue to wear pig-tails, high-heeled shoes, starched ruffs, or
trunk-hose to the crack of doom.

If it be still urged that he is not justified in breaking
through others' forms that he may establish his own, and
so sacrificing the wishes of many to the wishes of one, he
replies that all religious and political changes might be

THE CONVENTION-BREAKER'S VINDICATION. 95

negatived on like grounds. He asks whether Luther's
sayings and doings were not extremely offensive to the
mass of his contemporaries ; whether the resistance of
Hampden was not disgusting to the time-servers around
him ; whether every reformer has not shocked men's
prejudices, and given immense displeasure by the opinions
he uttered. The affirmative answer he follows up by
demanding what right the reformer has, then, to utter
these opinions ; whether he is not sacrificing the feelings
of many to the feelings of one : and so proves that, to
be consistent, his antagonists must condemn not only
all nonconformity in actions, but all nonconformity in
thoughts.

His antagonists rejoin that his position, too, may be
pushed to an absurdity. They argue that if a man may
offend by the disregard of some forms, he may as legiti-
mately do so by the disregard of all ; and they inquire —
Why should he not go out to dinner in a dirty shirt, and
with an unshorn chin ? Why should he not spit on the
drawing-room carpet, and stretch his heels up to the man-
tel-shelf?

The convention-breaker answers, that to ask this, im-
plies a confounding of two widely-different classes of
actions — the actions that are essentially displeasurable to
those around, with the actions that are but incidentally
displeasurable to them. He whose skin is so unclean as to
offend the nostrils of his neighbours, or he who talks so
loudly as to disturb a whole room, may be justly com-
plained of, and rightly excluded by society from its assem-
blies. But he who presents himself in a surtout in place
of a dress-coat, or in brown trousers instead of black, gives
offence not to men's senses, or their innate tastes, but
merely to their prejudices, their bigotry of convention. It
cannot be said that his costume is less elegant or less
intrinsically appropriate than the one prescribed ; seeing
6

96 MANNERS AND FASHION.

that a few hours earlier in the day it is admired. It is the
implied rebellion, therefore, that annoys. How little the
cause of quarrel has to do with the dress itself, is seen in
the fact that a century ago black clothes would have been
thought preposterous for hours of recreation, and that
a few years hence some now forbidden style may be nearer
the requirements of Fashion than the present one. Thus
the reformer explains that it is not against the natural
restraints, but against the artificial ones, that he pro-
tests ; and that manifestly the fire of sneers and angry
glances w7hich he has to bear, is poured upon him be-
cause he will not bow down to the idol which society has
set up.

Should he be asked how we are to distinguish between
conduct that is absolutely disagreeable to others, and con-
duct that is relatively so, he answers, that they will distin-
guish themselves, if men will let them. Actions intrin-
sically repugnant will ever be frowned upon, and must
ever remain as exceptional as now. Actions not intrin-
sically repugnant will establish themselves as proper. No
relaxation of customs will introduce the practice of going
to a party in muddy boots, and with unwT ashed hands ; for
the dislike of dirt would continue were Fashion abolished
to-morrow. That love of approbation which now makes
people so solicitous to be en regie would still exist — would
still make them careful of their personal appearance —
would still induce them to seek admiration by making
themselves ornamental — would still cause them to respect
the natural laws of good behaviour, as they now do the
artificial ones. The change would simply be from a repul-
sive monotony to a picturesque variety. And if there be
any regulations respecting w-hich it is uncertain whether
they are based on reality or on convention, experiment
will soon decide, if due scope be allowed.

When at length the controversy comes round, as con

THE JONVENTION-BREAKER's VINDICATION. 9Y

troversies often do, to the point whence it started, and the
" party of order " repeat their charge against the rebel,
that he is sacrificing the feelings of others to the gratifica
tion of his own wilfulness, he replies once for all that they
cheat themselves by mis-statements. He accuses them of
being so despotic, that, not content with being masters
over their own ways and habits, they would be masters
over his also ; and grumble because he will not let them.
He merely asks the same freedom which they exercise ;
they, however, propose to regulate his course as well as
their own — to cut and clip his mode of life into agreement
with their approved pattern ; and then charge him with
wilfulness and selfishness, because he does not quietly
submit ! He warns them that he shall resist, never-
theless ; and that he shall do so, not only for the asser-
tion of his own independence, but for their good. He tells
them that they are slaves, and know it not; that they
are shackled, and kiss their chains ; that they have lived
all their days in prison, and complain at the walls being
broken down. He says he must persevere, however,
with a view to his own release ; and in spite of their
present expostulations, he prophesies that when they have
recovered from the fright which the prospect of free-
dom produces, they will thank him for aiding in their
emancipation.

Unamiable as seems this find-fault mood, offensive as is
this defiant attitude, we must beware of overlooking the
truths enunciated, in dislike of the advocacy. It is an un-
fortunate hindrance to all innovation, that in virtue of
their very function, the innovators stand in a position of
antagonism ; and the disagreeable manners, and sayings,
and doings, which this antagonism generates, are com-
monly associated with the doctrines promulgated. Quite
forgetting that whether the thing attacked be good or
bad, the combative spirit is necessarily repulsive ; and quite

08 MANNERS AND FASHION-

forgetting that the toleration of abuses seems amiable
merely from its passivity ; the mass of men contract a bias
against advanced views, and in favour of stationary ones,
from intercourse with their respective adherents. " Con-
servatism," as Emerson says, " is debonnair and social ;
reform is individual and imperious." And this remains
true, however vicious the system conserved, however
righteous the reform to be effected. Nay, the indigna-
tion of the purists is usually extreme in proportion as
the evils to be got rid of are great. The more urgent
the required change, the more intemperate is the vehe-
mence of its promoters. Let no one, then, confound with
the principles of this social nonconformity the acerbity
and the disagreeable self-assertion of those who first dis-
play it.

The most plausible objection raised against resistance
to conventions, is grounded on its impolicy, considered
even from the progressist's point of view. It is urged by
many of the more liberal and intelligent — usually those
who have themselves shown some independence of be-
haviour in earlier days — that to rebel in these small
matters is to destroy your own power of helping on
reform in greater matters. " If you show yourself eccen-
tric in manners or dress, the world," they say, " will not
listen to you. You will be considered as crotchety, and
impracticable. The opinions you express on important
subjects, which might have been treated with respect had
you conformed on minor points, will now inevitably be
put down among your singularities ; and thus, by dissent-
ing in trifles, you disable yourself from spreading dissent
in essentials."

Only noting, as we pass, that this is one of those antici-
pations which bring about their own fulfilment — that it is
because most who disapprove these conventions do not show

CONSEQUENCES OF MRS. GRUNDY 's TYRANNY. 90

tbeir disapproval, that the few who do show it look eccen-
tric— and that did all act out their convictions, no such in
ference as the above would be drawn, and no such evil
would result ; — noting this as we pass, we go on to reply
that these social restraints, and forms, and requirements,
are not small evils, but among the greatest. Estimate their
sum total, and we doubt whether they would not exceed
most others. Could we add up the trouble, the cost, the
jealousies, vexations, misunderstandings, the loss of time
and the loss of pleasure, which these conventions entail —
could we clearly realize the extent to which we are all dai-
ly hampered by them, daily enslaved by them ; we should
perhaps come to the conclusion that the tyranny of Mrs.
Grundy is worse than any other tyranny we suffer under.
Let us look at a few of its hurtful results ; beginning with
those of minor importance.

It produces extravagance. The desire to be comme il
fautf which underlies all conformities, whether of manners,
dress, or styles of entertainment, is the desire which makes
many a spendthrift and many a bankrupt. To " keep up
appearances," to have a house in an approved quarter fur-
nished in the latest taste, to give expensive dinners and
crowded soirees, is an ambition forming the natural outcome
of the conformist spirit. It is needless to enlarge on these
follies : they have been satirized by hosts of writers, and in
every drawing-room. All that here concerns us, is to point
out that the respect for social observances, which men think
so praiseworthy, has the same root with this effort to be
fashionable in mode of living ; and that, other things equal,
the last cannot be diminished without the first being dimin-
ished also. If, now, we consider all that this extravagance
entails — if we count up the robbed tradesmen, the stinted
governesses, the ill-educated children, the fleeced relatives,
who have to suffer from it — if we mark the anxiety and the
many moral delinquencies which its perpetrators involve

LOfC.

LOO MANNERS AND FASHION.

themselves in ; we shall see that this regard for conventions
is not quite so innocent as it looks.

Again, it decreases the amount of social intercourse.
Passing over the reckless, and those who make a great dis-
play on speculation with the occasional result of getting on
in the world to the exclusion of much better men, we come
to the far larger class who, being prudent and honest
enough not to exceed their means, and yet having a strong
wish to be " respectable," are obliged to limit their enter-
tainments to the smallest possible number ; and that each
of these may be turned to the greatest advantage in meet-
ing the claims upon their hospitality, are induced to issue
their invitations with little or no regard to the comfort or
mutual fitness of their guests. A few inconveniently- large
assemblies, made up of people mostly strange to each other
or but distantly acquainted, and having scarcely any tastes
in common, are made to serve in place of many small par-
ties of friends intimate enough to have some bond of
thought and sympathy. Thus the quantity of intercourse
is diminished, and the quality deteriorated. Because it is
the custom to make costly preparations and provide costly
refreshments ; and because it entails both less expense and
less trouble to do this for many persons on a few occasions
than for few persons on many occasions ; the reunions of
our less wealthy classes are rendered alike infrequent and
tedious.

Let it be further observed, that the existing formalities
of social intercourse drive away many who most need its
refining influence : and drive them into injurious habits and
associations. Not a few men, and not the least sensible men
either, give up in disgust this going out to stately dinners,
and stiff evening-parties ; and instead, seek society in clubs,
and cigar-divans, and taverns. " I 'm sick of this standing
about in drawing-rooms, talking nonsense, and trying to
look happy," will answer one of them when taxed with hia

AN ESTIMATE OF FASHIONABLE PARTIES. 101

desertion. " Why should I any longer waste time and
money, and temper ? Once I was ready enough to rush
home from the office to dress ; I sported embroidered shirts,
submitted to tight boots, and cared nothing for tailors1 and
haberdashers' bills. I know better now. My patience last-
ed a good while ; for though I found each night pass stu-
pidly, I always hoped the next would make amends. But
I'm undeceived. Cab-hire and kid gloves cost more than
any evening party pays for ; or rather — it is worth the cost
of them to avoid the party. ISTo, no ; I'll no more of it.
Why should I pay five shillings a time for the privilege of
being bored ? "

If, now, we consider that this very common mood tends
towards billiard-rooms, towards long sittings over cigars
and brandy-aud-water, towards Evans's and the Coal Hole,
towards every place where amusement may be had ; it be-
comes a question whether these precise observances which
hamper our set meetings, have not to answer for much of
the prevalent dissoluteness. Men must have excitements
of some kind or other ; and if debarred from higher ones
will fall back upon lower. It is not that those who thus
take to irregular habits are essentially those of low tastes.
Often it is quite the reverse. Among half a dozen intimate
friends, abandoning formalities and sitting at ease round
the fire, none will enter with greater enjoyment into the
nighest kind of social intercourse — the genuine communion
of thought and feeling ; and if the circle includes women of
intelligence and refinement, so much the greater is their
pleasure. It is because they will no longer be choked with
the mere dry husks of conversation which society olTers
them, that they fly its assemblies, and seek those with whom
they may have discourse that is at least real, though unpol-
ished. The men who thus long for substantial mental sym-
pathy, and will go where they can get it, are often, indeed,
much better at the core than the men who are content with

L02 MANNERS AND FASHION.

the inanities of gloved and scented party-goers — men who
feel no need to come morally nearer to their fellow crea-
tures than they can come while standing, tea-cup in hand,
answering trifles with trifles ; and who, by feeling no such
need, prove themselves shallow-thoughted and cold-hearted.

It is true, that some who shun drawing-rooms do so from
inability to bear the restraints prescribed by a genuine re-
finement, and that they would be greatly improved by being
kept under these restraints. But it is not less true that, by
adding to the legitimate restraints, which are based on con.
venience and a regard for others, a host of factitious re-
straints based only on convention, the refining discipline,
which would else have been borne with benefit, is rendered
unbearable, and so misses its end. Excess of government
invariably defeats itself by driving away those to be gov-
erned. And if over all who desert its entertainments in
disgust either at their emptiness or their formality, society
thus loses its salutary influence — if such not only fail to re-
ceive that moral culture which the company of ladies, when
rationally regulated, would give them, but, in default of
other relaxation, are driven into habits and companionships
which often end in gambling and drunkenness ; must we
not say that here, too, is an evil not to be passed over as
insignificant ?

Then consider what a blighting effect these multitudi-
nous preparations and ceremonies have upon the pleasures
they profess to subserve. Who, on calling to mind the oc-
casions of his highest social enjoyments, does not find them
to have been wholly informal, perhaps impromptu ? How
delightful a picnic of friends, who forget all observances
save those dictated by good nature! How pleasant the
little unpretended gatherings of book-societies, and the
like ; or those purely accidental meetings of a few people
well known to each other ! Then, indeed, we may see that
" a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend." Cheeks

CONDITIONS OF SOCIAL ENJOYMENT. 103

flush, and eyes sparkle. The witty grow brilliant, and even
the dull are excited into saying good things. There is an
overflow of topics ; and the right thought, and the right
words to put it in, spring up unsought. Grave alternates
with gay : now serious converse, and now jokes, anecdotes,
and playful raillery. Everyone's best nature is shown
everyone's best feelings are in pleasurable activity; and,
for the time, life seems well worth having.

Go now and dress for some half-past eight dinner, or
some ten o'clock " at home ; " and present yourself in spot-
less attire, with every hair arranged to perfection. How
great the difference ! The enjoyment seems in the inverse
ratio of the preparation. These figures, got up with such
finish and precision, appear but half alive. They have fro-
zen each other by their primness ; and your faculties feel
the numbing effects of the atmosphere the moment you
enter it. All those thoughts, so nimble and so apt awhile
since, have disappeared — have suddenly acquired a preter-
natural power of eluding you. If you venture a remark to
your neighbour, there comes a trite rejoinder, and there it
ends. No subject you can hit upon outlives half a dozen
sentences. Nothing that is said excites any real interest in
you ; and you feel that all you say is listened to with apathy.
By some strange magic, things that usually give pleasure
seem to have lost all charm.

You have a taste for art. Weary of frivolous talk, you
turn to the table, and find that the book of engravings and
the portfolio of photographs are as flat as the conversation.
You are fond of music. Yet the singing, good as it is, you
hear with utter indifference ; and say " Thank you" with a
sense of being a profound hypocrite. "Wholly at ease
though you could be, for your own part, you find that your
sympathies will not let you. You see young gentlemen
feeling whether their ties are properly adjusted, looking
vacantly round, and considering what they shall do next.

104: MANNEKS AND FASHION.

You see ladies sitting disconsolately, waiting for some one
to speak to them, and wishing they had the wherewith to
occupy their fingers. You see the hostess standing about
the doorway, keeping a factitious smile on her face, and
racking her brain to find the requisite nothings with which
to greet her guests as they enter. You see numberless
traits of weariness and embarrassment ; and, if you have any
fellow feeling, these cannot fail to produce a feeling of dis-
comfort. The disorder is catching ; and do what you will
you cannot resist the general infection. You struggle
against it ; you make spasmodic efforts to be lively ; but
none of your sallies or your good stories do more than
raise a simper or a forced laugh : intellect and feeling are
alike asphyxiated. And when, at length, yielding to your
disgust, you rush away, how great is the relief when you
get into the fresh air, and see the stars ! How you u Thank
God, that's over ! " and half resolve to avoid all such bore-
dom for the future I

What, now, is the secret of this perpetual miscarriage
and disappointment ? Does not the fault lie with all these
needless adjuncts — these elaborate dressings, these set
forms, these expensive preparations, these many devices
and arrangements that imply trouble and raise expectation?
Who that has lived thirty years in the world has not dis-
covered that Pleasure is coy ; and must not be too directly
pursued, but must be caught unawares ? An air from a
street-piano, heard while at work, will often gratify more
than the choicest music played at a concert by the most
accomplished musicians. A single good picture seen in a
dealer's window, may give keener enjoyment than a whole
exhibition gone through with catalogue and pencil. By
the time we have got ready our elaborate apparatus by
which to secure happiness, the happiness is gone. It is too
subtle to be contained in these receivers, garnished with
compliments, and fenced round with etiquette. The more

CONDITIONS OF SOCIAL ENJOYMENT. 105

we multiply and complicate appliances, the more certain
are we to drive it away.

The reason is patent enough. These higher emotions
to which social intercourse ministers, are of extremely com-
plex nature ; they consequently depend for their production
upon very numerous conditions ; the more numerous the
conditions, the greater the liability that one or other of
them will be disturbed, and the emotions consequently pre-
vented. It takes a considerable misfortune to destroy ap-
petite ; but cordial sympathy with those around may be ex-
tinguished by a look or a word. Hence it follows, that the
more multiplied the unnecessary requirements with which
social intercourse is surrounded, the less likely are its
pleasures to be achieved. It is difficult enough to fulfil
continuously all the essentials to a pleasurable communion
with others : how much more difficult, then, must it be
continuously to fulfil a host of non-essentials also ! It is,
indeed, impossible. The attempt inevitably ends in the
sacrifice of the first to the last — the essentials to the non-
essentials. What chance is there of getting any genuine
response from the lady who is thinking of your stupidity in
taking her in to dinner on the wrong arm ? How are you
likely to have agreeable converse with the gentleman who
is fuming internally because he is not placed next to the
hostess ? Formalities, familiar as they may become, neces-
sarily occupy attention — necessarily multiply the occasions
for mistake, misunderstanding, and jealousy, on the part of
one or other — necessarily distract all minds from the
thoughts and feelings that should occupy them — necessa-
rily, therefore, subvert those conditions under which only
any sterling intercourse is to be had.

And this indeed is the fatal mischief which these con-
ventions entail — a mischief to which every other is sec-
ondary. They destroy those highest of our pleasures
which they profess to subserve. All institutions are alike

106 MANNERS AND FASHION.

in this, that however useful, and needful even, they origi-
ually were, they not only in the end cease to be so, but be-
come detrimental. While humanity is growing, they con-
tinue fixed ; daily get more mechanical and unvital ; and
by and by tend to strangle what they before preserved.
It is not simply that they become corrupt and fail to act
they become obstructions. Old forms of government finally
grow so oppressive, that they must be thrown off even at
the risk of reigns of terror. Old creeds end in being dead
formulas, which no longer aid but distort and arrest the
general mind; while the State-churches administering them,
come to be instruments for subsidizing conservatism and
repressing progress. Old schemes of education, incarnated
in public schools and colleges, continue filling the heads of
new generations with what has become relatively useless
knowledge, and, by consequence, excluding knowledge
which is useful. Not an organization of any kind — politi-
cal, religious, literary, philanthropic — but what, by its ever-
multiplying regulations, its accumulating wealth, its yearly
addition of officers, and the creeping into it of patronage
and party feeling, eventually loses its original spirit, and
sinks into a mere lifeless mechanism, worked with a view
to private ends — a mechanism which not merely fails of its
first purpose, but is a positive hindrance to it.

Thus is it, too, with social usages. We read of the Chi-
nese that they have " ponderous ceremonies transmitted
from time immemorial," which make social intercourse a
burden. The court forms prescribed by monarchs for their
own exaltation, have, in all times and places, ended in con-
suming the comfort of their lives. And so the artificial
observances of the dining-room and saloon, in proportion
as they are many and strict, extinguish that agreeable com-
munion which they were originally intended to secure.
The dislike with which people commonly speak of society
that is " formal," and " stiff," and " ceremonious," implies

THE TRUE SOCIAL REQUIREMENT. 107

the general recognition of this fact ; and this recognition,
logically developed, involves that all usages of behaviour
which are not based on natural requirements, are injurious.
That these conventions defeat their own ends is no new
assertion. Swift, criticising the manners of his day, says —
u Wise men are often more uneasy at the over-civility of
these refiners than they could possibly be in the conversa-
tion of peasants and mechanics."

But it is not only in these details that the self-defeating
action of our arrangements is traceable : it is traceable in
the very substance and nature of them. Our social inter-
course, as commonly managed, is a mere semblance of the
reality sought. What is it that we want ? Some sympa-
thetic converse with our fellow-creatures : some converse
that shall not be mere dead words, but the vehicle of living
thoughts and feelings — converse in which the eyes and the
face shall speak, and the tones of the voice be full of mean-
ing— converse which shall make us feel no longer alone,
but shall draw us closer to another, and double our own
emotions by adding another's to them. Who is there that
has not, from time to time, felt how cold and flat is all this
talk about politics and science, and the new books and the
new men, and how a genuine utterance of fellow-feeling
outweighs the whole of it ? Mark the words of Bacon : —
" For a crowd is not a company, and faces are but a gallery
of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is
no love."

If this be true, then it is only after acquaintance has
grown into intimacy, and intimacy has ripened into friend-
ship, that the real communion which men need becomes
possible. A rationally-formed circle must consist almost
wholly of those on terms of familiarity and regard, with
but one or two strangers. What folly, then, underlies the
whole system of our grand dinners, our " at homes," our
evening parties — assemblages made up of many who never

108 MANNERS AND FASHION.

met before, many others who just bow to each other, many
others who though familiar feel mutual indifference, with
just a few real friends lost in the general mass ! You need
but look round at the artificial expressions of face, to sec
at once how it is. All have their disguises on ; and how
can there be sympathy between masks ? No wonder that
in private every one exclaims against the stupidity of these
gatherings. No wonder that hostesses get them up rather
because they must than because they wish. No wonder
that the invited go less from the expectation of pleasure
than from fear of giving offence. The whole thing is a gi-
gantic mistake — an organized disappointment.

And then note, lastly, that in this case, as in all others^
when an organization has become effete and inoperative for
its legitimate purpose, it is employed for quite other ones
— quite opposite ones. What is the usual plea put in for
giving and attending these tedious assemblies ? "I admit
that they are stupid and frivolous enough," replies every
man to your criticisms ; " but then, you know, one must
keep up one's connections." And could you get from his
wife a sincere answer, it would be — " Like you, I am sick
of these frivolities ; but then, we must get our daughters
married." The one knows that there is a profession to
push, a practice to gain, a business to extend : or parlia-
mentary influence, or county patronage, or votes, or office,
to be got : position, berths, favours, profit. The other's
thoughts runs upon husbands and settlements, wives and
dowries. Worthless for their ostensible purpose of daily
bringing human beings into pleasurable relations with each
other, these cumbrous appliances of our social intercourse
are now perseveringly kept in action with a view to the
pecuniary and matrimonial results which they indirectly
produce.

Who then shall say that the reform of our system of
observances is unimportant ? When we see how this sys-

REFORMATION OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 109

tern induces fashionable extravagance, with its entailed
bankruptcy and ruin — when we mark how greatly it limits
the amount of social intercourse among the less wealthy
classes — when we find that many who most need to be dis*
ciplined by mixing with the refined are driven away by it^
and led into dangerous and often fatal courses — when we
count up the many minor evils it inflicts, the extra work
which its costliness entails on all professional and mercan-
tile men, the damage to public taste in dress and decora-
tion by the setting up of its absurdities as standards for
imitation, the injury to health indicated in the faces of its
devotees at the close of the London season, the mortality
of milliners and the like, which its sudden exigencies yearly
involve ; — and when to all these we add its fatal sin, that it
blights, withers up, and kills, that high enjoyment it pro-
fessedly ministers to — that enjoyment which is a chief end
of our hard struggling in life to obtain — shall we not con-
clude that to reform our system of etiquette and fashion, is
an aim yielding to few in urgency ?

There needs, then, a protestantism in social usages.
Forms that have ceased to facilitate and have become ob-
structive— whether political, religious, or other — have ever
to be swept away ; and eventually are so swept away in all
cases. Signs are not wanting that some change is at hand.
A host of satirists, led on by Thackeray, have been for years
engaged in bringing our sham-festivities, and our fashiona-
ble follies, into contempt ; and in their candid moods, most
men laugh at the frivolities with which they and the world
in general are deluded. Ridicule has always been a revo-
lutionary agent. That which is habitually assailed with
sneers and sarcasms cannot long survive. Institutions that
have lost their roots in men's respect and faith are doomed;
and the day of their dissolution is not far off. The time ig
approaching, then, when our system of social observances

110 MANNERS AND FASHION.

must pass through some crisis, out of which it will come
purified and comparatively simple.

How this crisis will be brought about, no one can with
any certainty say. Whether by the continuance and in-
crease of individual protests, or whether by the union of
many persons for the practice and propagation of some
better system, the future alone can decide. The influence
of dissentients acting without co-operation, seems, under
the present state of things, inadequate. Standing severally
alone, and having no well-defined views ; frowned on by
conformists, and expostulated with even by those who
secretly sympathize with them ; subject to petty persecu-
tions, and unable to trace any benefit produced by their
example ; they are apt, one by one, to give up their attempts
as hopeless. The young convention-breaker eventually
^finds that he pays too heavily for his nonconformity. Hat-
ing, for example, everything that bears about it any rem-
nant of servility, he determines, in the ardour of his inde-
pendence, that he will uncover to no one. But what he
means simply as a general protest, he finds that ladies in-
terpret into a personal disrespect. Though he sees that,
from the days of chivalry downwards, these marks of su-
preme consideration paid to the other sex have been but
a hypocritical counterpart to the actual subjection in which
men have held them — a pretended submission to compen-
sate for a real domination ; and though he sees that
when the true dignity of women is recognised, the mock
dignities given to them will be abolished ; yet he does
not like to be thus misunderstood, and so hesitates in his
practice.

In other cases, again, his courage fails him. Such of
Jris unconventionalities as can be attributed only to eccen-
tricity, he has no qualms about : for, on the whole, he feels
rather complimented than otherwise in being considered a
disregarder of public opinion. But when they are liable tc

DIFFICULTIES OF THE SOCIAL NONCONFORMIST. Ill

be put down to ignorance, to ill-breeding, or to poverty,
lie becomes a coward. However clearly the recent innova-
tion of eating some kinds of fish with knife and fork proves
the fork-and-bread practice to have had little but caprice
for its basis, yet he dares not wholly ignore that practice
while fashion partially maintains it. Though he thinks
that a silk handkerchief is quite as appropriate for drawing-
room use as a white cambric one, he is not altogether at
ease in acting out his opinion. Then, too, he begins to
perceive that his resistance to prescription brings round
disadvantageous results which he had not calculated upon.
He had expected that it would save him from a great deal
of social intercourse of a frivolous kind — that it would
offend the fools, but not the sensible people ; and so would
serve as a self-acting test by which those worth knowing
would be separated from those not worth knowing. But
the fools prove to be so greatly in the majority that, by
offending them, he closes against himself nearly all the
avenues though which the sensible people are to be
reached. Thus he finds, that his nonconformity is fre-
quently misinterpreted ; that there are but few directions
in which he dares to cany it consistently out ; that the
annoyances and disadvantages which it brings upon him
are greater than he anticipated ; and that the chances of
his doing any good are very remote. Hence he gradually
loses resolution, and lapses, step by step, into the ordinary
routine of observances.

Abortive as individual protests thus generally turn out,
it may possibly be that nothing effectual will be done until
there arises some organized resistance to this invisible
despotism, by which our modes and habits are dictated.
It may happen, that the government of Manners and Fash-
ion will be rendered less tyrannical, as the political and
religious governments have been, by some antagonistic
union. Alike in Church and State, men's first emancipa-

112 MANNERS AND FASHION.

tions from excess of restriction were achieved by numbers,
bound together by a common creed or a common political
faith. What remained undone while there were but indivi-
dual schismatics or rebels, was effected when there came
to be many acting in concert. It is tolerably clear that
these earliest instalments of freedom could not have been
obtained in any other way ; for so long as the feeling of
personal independence was weak and the rule strong, there
could never have been a sufficient number of separate dis-
sentients to produce the desired results. Only in these
later times, during which the secular and spiritual controls
have been growing less coercive, and the tendency towards
individual liberty greater, has it become possible for smaller
and smaller sects and parties to fight against established
creeds and laws ; until now men may safely stand even
alone in their antagonism.

The failure of individual nonconformity to customs, as
above illustrated, suggests that an analogous series of
changes may have to be gone through in this case also. It
is true that the lex non scripta differs from the lex scripta
in this, that, being unwritten, it is more readily altered ;
and that it has, from time to time, been quietly ameliorated.
Nevertheless, we shall find that the analogy holds substan-
tially good. For in this case, as in the others, the essen-
tial revolution is not the substituting of any one set of
restraints for any other, but the limiting or abolishing the
authority which prescribes restraints. Just as the funda-
mental change inaugurated by the Reformation, was not a
superseding of one creed by another, but an ignoring of
the arbiter who before dictated creeds — just as the funda-
mental change which Democracy long ago commenced,
was not from this particular law to that, but from the
despotism of one to the freedom of all ; so, the paralled
change yet to be wrought out in this supplementary gov-
ernment of which we are treating, is not the replacing of

A PROTESTANTISM IN SOCIAL USAGES NEEDED. 113

absurd usages by sensible ones, but the dethronement of
that secret, irresponsible power which now imposes our
usages, and the assertion of the right of all individuals to
choose their own usages. In rules of living, a West-end
clique is our Pope ; and we are all papists, with but a mere
sprinkling of heretics. On all who decisively rebel, come*
down the penalty of excommunication, with its long
catalogue of disagreeable and, indeed, serious conse*
quences.

The liberty of the subject asserted in our constitution,
and ever on the increase, has yet to be wrested from this
subtler tyranny. The right of private judgment, which
our ancestors wrung from the church, remains to be
claimed from this dictator of our habits. Or, as before
said, to free us from these idolatries and superstitious con-
formities, there has still to come a protestantism in social
usages. Parallel, therefore, as is the change to be
wrought out, it seems not improbable that it may be
wrought out in an analogous way. That influence which
solitary dissentients fail to gain, and that perseverance
which they lack, may come into existence when they unite.
That persecution which the world now visits upon them
from mistaking their nonconformity for ignorance or dis-
respect, may diminish when it is seen to result from
principle. The penalty which exclusion now entails may
disappear when they become numerous enough to form
visiting circles of their own. And when a successful
stand has been made, and the brunt of the opposition
has passed, that large amount of secret dislike to our
observances which now pervades society, may manifest
itself with sufficient power to effect the desired eman-
cipation.

Whether such will be the process, time alone can de-
cide. That community of origin, growth, supremacy, and
decadence, which we have found among all kinds of gov-

il4 MANNERS AND FASHION.

eminent, suggests a community in modes of change also
On the other hand, Nature often performs substantially
similar operations, in ways apparently different. Hence
these details can never be foretold.

Meanwhile, let us glance at the conclusions that have
been reached. On the one side, government, originally
one, and afterwards subdivided for the better fulfilment of
its function, must be considered as having ever been, in all
its branches — political, religious, and ceremonial — bene-
ficial ; and, indeed, absolutely necessary. On the other
side, government, under all its forms, must be regarded as
subserving a temporary oflice, made needful by the unfit-
ness of aboriginal humanity for social life ; and the succes-
sive diminutions of its coerciveness in State, in Church, and
in Custom, must be looked upon as steps towards its final
disappearance. To complete the conception, there requires
to be borne in mind the third fact, that the genesis, the
maintenance, and the decline of all governments, however
named, are alike brought about by the humanity to be con-
trolled : from which may be drawn the inference that, on
the average, restrictions of every kind cannot last much
longer than they are wanted, and cannot be destroyed
much faster than they ought to be.

Society, in all its developments, undergoes the process
of exuviation. These old forms which it successively
throws off, have all been once vitally united with it — have
severally served as the protective envelopes within which
a higher humanity was being evolved. They are cast
aside only when they become hindrances — only when some
inner and better envelope has been formed ; and they be-
queath to us all that there was in them good. The periodi-
cal abolitions of tyrannical laws have left the administration
of justice not only uninjured, but purified. Dead and
buried creeds have not carried with them the essentia]

ONLY THE DEAD FOEMS PASS AWAY. 115

morality they contained, which still exists, uncontaminated
by the sloughs of superstition. And all that there is of
justice and kindness and beauty, embodied in our cum-
brous forms of etiquette, will live perennially when the
forms themselves have been forgotten.

III.

THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

THERE has ever prevailed among men a vague notion
that scientific knowledge differs in nature from ordinary
knowledge. By the Greeks, with whom Mathematics —
literally things learnt — was alon^ considered as knowledge
proper, the distinction must have been strongly felt ; and
it has ever since maintained itself in the general mind.
Though, considering the contrast between the achievements
of science and those of daily unmethodic thinking, it is not
surprising that such a distinction has been assumed ; yet it
needs but to rise a little above the common point of view,
to see that no such distinction can really exist : or that at
best, it is but a superficial distinction. The same faculties
are employed in both cases ; and in both cases their mode
of operation is fundamentally the same.

If we say that science is organized knowledge, we are
met by the truth that all knowledge is organized in a great-
er or less degree — that the commonest actions of the house-
hold and »the field presuppose facts colligated, inferences
drawn, results expected ; and that the general success of ,
these actions proves the data by which they were guided
to havvi been correctly put together. If, again, we say
that science is prevision — is a seeing beforehand — is a know*

THE GERM OF SCIENCE EN ORDINARY KNOWLEDGE. 117

ing in what times, places, combinations, or sequences, spe-
cified phenomena will be found ; we are yet obliged to con
fess that the definition includes much that is utterly foreign
to science in its ordinary acceptation. For example, a child's
knowledge of an apple. This, as far as it goes consists in
previsions. When a child sees a certain form and colours,
it knows that if it puts out its hand it will have certain im-
pressions of resistance, and roundness, and smoothness;
and if it bites, a certain taste. And manifestly its general
acquaintance with surrounding objects is of like nature — is
made up of facts concerning them, so grouped as that any
part of a group being perceived, the existence of the other
facts included in it is foreseen.

If, once more, we say that science is exact prevision, we
still fail to establish the supposed difference. Not only do
we find that much of what we call science is not exact,
and that some of it, as physiology, can never become exact ;
but we find further, that many of the previsions constitu-
ting the common stock alike of wise and ignorant, are ex-
act. That an unsupported body will fall ; that a lighted candle
will go out when immersed in water ; that ice will melt
when thrown on the fire — these, and many like predictions
relating to the familiar properties of things have as high a
degree of accuracy as predictions are capable of. It is true
that the results predicated are of a very general character ;
but it is none the less true that they are rigorously correct
as far as they go : and this is all that is requisite to fulfil
the definition. There is perfect accordance between the
anticipated phenomena and the actual ones ; and no more
than this can be said of the highest achievements of the
sciences specially characterised as exact.

Seeing thus that the assumed distinction between scien-
tific knowledge and common knowledge is not logically
justifiable ; and yet feeling, as we must, that however im»
possible it may be to draw a line between them, the two

118 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

are not practically identical ; there arises the question—
What is the relationship that exists between them? A
partial answer to this question may be drawn from the il-
lustrations just given. On reconsidering them, it will be
observed that those portions of ordinary knowledge which
are identical in character with scientific knowledge, com-
prehend only such combinations of phenomena as are direct-
ly cognizable by the senses, and are of simple, invariable
nature. That the smoke from a fire which she is lighting
will ascend, and that the fire will presently boil water, are
previsions which the servant-girl makes equally well with
the most learned physicist; they are equally certain,
equally exact with his ; but they are previsions concerning
phenomena in constant and direct relation — phenomena
that follow visibly and immediately after their antecedents
— phenomena of which the causation is neither remote nor
obscure — phenomena which may be predicted by the sim<
plest possible act of reasoning.

If, now, we pass to the previsions constituting what is
commonly known as science — that an eclipse of the moon
will happen at a specified time ; and when a barometer is
taken to the top of a mountain of known height, the mer-
curial column will descend a stated number of inches ; that
the poles of a galvanic battery immersed in water will give
off, the one an inflammable and the other an inflaming gas,
in definite ratio — we perceive that the relations involved
are not of a kind habitually presented to our senses ; that
they depend, some of them, upon special combinations of
causes ; and that in some of them the connection between
antecedents and consequents is established only by an ela-
borate series of inferences. The broad distinction, there-
fore, between the two orders of knowledge, is not in theii
nature, but in their remoteness from perception.

If we regard the cases in their most general aspect, we
see that the labourer, who, on hearing certain notes in the

DEFINITION OF SCIENCE. 119

adjacent hedge, can describe the particular form and col-
ours of the bird making them ; and the astronomer, who,
having calculated a transit of Venus, can delineate the black
spot entering on the sun's disc, as it will appear through
the telescope, at a specified hour ; do essentially the same
thing. Each knows that on fulfilling the requisite condi-
tions, he shall have a preconceived impression — that after a
definite series of actions will come a group of sensations of
a foreknown kind. The difference, then, is not in the funda-
mental character of the mental acts ; or in the correctness
of the previsions accomplished by them ; but in the com-
plexity of the processes required to achieve the previsions.
Much of our commonest knowledge is, as far as it goes, rig-
orously precise. Science does not increase this precision ;
cannot transcend it. What then does it do ? It reduces
other knowledge to the same degree of precision. That
certainty which direct perception gives us respecting coex-
istences and sequences of the simplest and most accessi-
ble kind, science gives us respecting coexistences and se-
quences, complex in their dependencies or inaccessible to
immediate observation. In brief, regarded from this point
of view, science may be called an extension of the percep-
tions by means of reasoning.

On further considering the matter, however, it will per-
haps be felt that this definition does not express the whole
fact — that inseparable as science may be from common
knowledge, and completely as we may fill up the gap be-
tween the simplest previsions of the child and the most re-
condite ones of the natural philosopher, by interposing a
series of previsions in which the complexity of reasoning
involved is greater and greater, there is yet a difference
between the two beyond that which is here described. And
this is true. But the difference is still not such as enables
us to draw the assumed line of demarcation. It is a differ-
ence not between common knowledge and scientific knowl-
7

120 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

edge ; but between the successive phases of science itself,
or knowledge itself — whichever we choose to call it. In
its earlier phases science attains only to certainty of fore-
knowledge ; in its later phases it further attains to com-
pleteness. We begin by discovering a relation : we end
by discovering the relation. Our first achievement is to
foretell the kind of phenomenon which will occur under
specific conditions : our last achievement is to foretell not
only the kind but the amount. Or, to reduce the proposi
tion to its most definite form — undeveloped science is qual-
itative prevision : developed science is quantitative previ
sion.

This will at once be perceived to express the remaining
distinction between the lower and the higher stages of posi-
tive knowledge. The prediction that a piece of lead will
take more force to lift it than a piece of wood of equal size,
exhibits certainty, but not completeness, of foresight. The
kind of effect in which the one body will exceed the other
is foreseen ; but not the amount by which it will exceed.
There is qualitative prevision only. On the other hand, the
prediction that at a stated time two particular planets will
be in conjunction ; that by means of a lever having arms in
a given ratio, a known force will raise just so many pounds ;
that to decompose a specified quantity of sulphate of iron
by carbonate of soda will require so many grains — these
predictions exhibit foreknowledge, not only of the nature
of the effects to be produced, but of the magnitude, either
of the effects themselves, of the agencies producing them,
or of the distance in time or space at which they will be
produced. There is not only qualitative but quantitative
prevision.

And this is the unexpressed difference which leads us
to consider certain orders of knowledge as especially scien-
tific when contrasted with knowledge in general. Are the
phenomena measurable f is the test which we unconsciously

SCIENCE ADVANCES TO MEASUREMENT. 121

employ. Space is measurable: hence Geometry. Force
and space are measurable : hence Statics. Time, force, and
space are measurable : hence Dynamics. The invention of
the barometer enabled men to extend the principles of me-
chanics to the atmosphere ; and Aerostatics existed. When
a thermometer was devised there arose a science of heat,
which was before impossible. Such of our sensations as we
have not yet found modes of measuring do not originate
sciences. We have no science of smells ; nor have we one
of tastes. We have a science of the relations of sounds
differing in pitch, because we have discovered a way to
measure them ; but we have no science of sounds in respect
to their loudness or their timbre, because we have got no
measures of loudness and timbre.

Obviously it is this reduction of the sensible phenomena
it represents, to relations of magnitude, which gives to any
division of knowledge its especially scientific character.
Originally men's knowledge of weights and forces was in
the same condition as their knowledge of smells and tastes
is now — a knowledge not extending beyond that given by
the unaided sensations ; and it remained so until weighing
instruments and dynamometers were invented. Before
there were hour-glasses and olepsydras, most phenomena
could be estimated as to their durations and intervals, with
no greater precision than degrees of hardness can be esti-
mated by the fingers. Until a thermometric scale was con-
trived, men's judgments respecting relative amounts of
heat stood on the same footing with their present judg-
ments respecting relative amounts of sound. And as in
these initial stages, with no aids to observation, only the
roughest comparisons of cases could be made, and only the
most marked differences perceived ; it is obvious that only
the most simple laws of dependence could be ascertained —
only those laws which being uncomplicated with others,
and not disturbed in their manifestations, required no nice-

122 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

ties of observation to disentangle them. Whence it ap-
pears not only that in proportion as knowledge becomes
quantitative do its previsions become complete as well as
certain, but that until its assumption of a quantitative char-
acter it is necessarily confined to the most elementary rela-
tions.

Moreover it is to be remarked that while, on the one
hand, we can discover the laws of the greater proportion
of phenomena only by investigating them quantitatively ;
on the other hand we can extend the range of our quanti-
tative previsions only as fast as we detect the laws of the
results we predict. For clearly the ability to specify the
magnitude of a result inaccessible to direct measurement,
implies knowledge of its mode of dependence on something
which can be measured — implies that we know the particu-
lar fact dealt with to be an instance of some more general
fact. Thus the extent to which our quantitative previsions
have been carried in any direction, indicates the depth to
which our knowledge reaches in that direction. And here,
as another aspect of the same fact, we may further observe
that as we pass from qualitative to quantitative prevision,
we pass from inductive science to deductive science. Sci-
ence while purely inductive is purely qualitative : when in-
accurately quantitative it usually consists of part induction,
part deduction: and it becomes accurately quantitative only
when wholly deductive. We do not mean that the deduct-
ive and the quantitative are coextensive ; for there is mani-
festly much deduction that is qualitative only. We mean
that all quantitative prevision is reached deductively ; and
that induction can achieve only qualitative prevision.

Still, however, it must not be supposed that these dis-
tinctions enable us to separate ordinary knowledge from
science ; much as they seem to do so. While they show in
what consists the broad contrast between the extreme forms
of the two, they yet lead us to recognise their essential iden-

SCIENCE AN OUTGROWTH OF COMMON KNOWLEDGE. 123

tity ; and once more prove the difference to be one of de-
gree only. For, on the one hand, the commonest positive
knowledge is to some extent quantitative ; seeing that the
amount of the foreseen result is known within certain wide
limits. And, on the other hand, the highest quantitative
prevision does not reach the exact truth, but only a very
near approximation to it. "Without clocks the savage
knows that the day is longer in the summer than in the
winter ; without scales he knows that stone is heavier than
flesh : that is, he can foresee respecting certain results that
their amounts will exceed these, and be less than those — he
knows about what they will be. And, with his most deli-
cate instruments and most elaborate calculations, all that
the man of science can do, is to reduce the difference be-
tween the foreseen and the actual results to an unimportant
quantity.

Moreover, it must be borne in mind not only that all
the sciences are qualitative in their first stages, — not only
that some of them, as Chemistry, have but recently reached
the quantitative stage — but that the most advanced sciences
have attained to their present power of determining quan-
tities not present to the senses, or not directly measurable,
by a slow process of improvement extending through thou-
sands of years. So that science and the knowledge of the
uncultured are alike in the nature of their previsions, widely
as they differ in range ; they possess a common imperfec-
tion, though this is immensely greater in the last than in
the first ; and the transition from the one to the other has
been through a series of steps by which the imperfection
has been rendered continually less, and the range continu-
ally wider.

These facts, that science and the positive knowledge of
the uncultured cannot be separated in nature, and that the
one is but a perfected and extended form of the other,
must necessarily underlie the whole theory of science, its

124 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

progress, and the relations of its parts to each other.

There must be serious incompleteness in any history of the
sciences, which, leaving out of view the first steps of their
genesis, commences with them only when they assume defi-
nite forms. There must be grave defects, if not a general
untruth, in a philosophy of the sciences considered in their
interdependence and development, which neglects the in-
quiry how they came to be distinct sciences, and how they
were severally evolved out of the chaos of primitive ideas.

Not only a direct consideration of the matter, but all
analogy, goes to show that in the earlier and simpler stages
must be sought the key to all subsequent intricacies. The
time was when the anatomy and physiology of the human
being were studied by themselves — when the adult man
was analyzed and the relations of parts and of functious
investigated, without reference either to the relations ex-
hibited in the embryo or to the homologous relations exist-
ing in other creatures. Now, however, it has become
manifest that no true conceptions, no true generalizations,
are possible under such conditions. Anatomists and phys-
iologists now find that the real natures of organs and tis-
sues can be ascertained only by tracing their early evolu-
tion ; and that the affinities between existing genera can
be satisfactorily made out only by examining the fossil gen-
era to which they are allied. Well, is it not clear that the
like must be true concerning all things that undergo devel-
opment ? Is not science a growth ? Has not science, too,
its embryology ? And must not the neglect of its embry-
ology lead to a misunderstanding of the principles of its
evolution and of its existing organization ?

There are a priori reasons, therefore, for doubting the
truth of all philosophies of the sciences which tacitly pro-
ceed upon the common notion that scientific knowledge
and ordinary knowledge are separate ; instead of com-
mencing, as they should, by affiliating the one upon the

oken's classification of the sciences. 125

other, and showing how it gradually came to be distin-
guishable from the other. We may expect to find theii
generalizations essentially artificial ; and we shall not be
deceived. Some illustrations of this may here be fitly in-
troduced, by way of preliminary to a brief sketch of the
genesis of science from the point of view indicated. And
we cannot more readily find such illustrations than by
glancing at a few of the various classifications of the sci-
ences that have from time to time been proposed. To con-
sider all of them would take too much space : we must
content ourselves with some of the latest.

Commencing with those which may be soonest disposed
of, let us notice first the arrangement propounded by Oken
An abstract of it runs thus : —

Part I. Mathesis. — Pneumatogeny : Primary Art, Primary
Consciousness, God, Primary Kest, Time, Polarity, Mo-
tion, Man, Space, Point, Line, Surface, Globe, Potation.
— Hylogeny : Gravity, Matter, Ether, Heavenly Bodies,
Light, Heat, Fire.

(He explains that Mathesis is the doctrine of the whole ;
Pneumatogeny being the doctrine of immaterial totalities, and
Hylogeny that of material totalities.)

Part n. Ontology. — Cosmogeny : Eest, Centre, Motion, Line,
Planets, Form, Planetary System, Comets. — Stochio-
geny : Condensation, Simple Matter, Elements, Air,
"Water, Earth. — StocMology : Functions of the Elements,
&c. &c. — Kingdoms of Nature : Individuals.

(He says in explanation that " Ontology teaches us the
phenomena of matter. The first of these are the heavenly
bodies comprehended by Cosmogeny. These divide into ele-
ments^— StocMogeny. The earth element divides into miner-
als —Mineralogy. These unite into one collective body —
Geogeny. The whole in singulars is the living, or Organic^

126 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

which again divides into plants and animals. Biology, there
fore, divides into Organogeny, Phytosophy, Zoosophy")

First Kingdom. — Minerals. Mineralogy, Geology.
Part III. Biology. — Organosophy, Phytogeny, Phyto-physiology%
Phytology, Zoogeny, Physiology, Zoology, Psychology?

A glance over this confused scheme shows that it is an
attempt to classify knowledge, not after the order in which
it has been, or may be, built up in the human conscious-
ness ; but after an assumed order of creation. It is a
pseudo-scientific cosmogony, akin to those which men have
enunciated from the earliest times downwards ; and only a
little more respectable. As such it will not be thought
worthy of much consideration by those who, like ourselves,
hold that experience is the sole origin of knowledge. Oth-
erwise, it might have been needful to dwell on the incon-
gruities of the arrangements — to ask how motion can be
treated of before space ? how there can be rotation with-
out matter to rotate ? how polarity can be dealt with with-
out involving points and lines ? But it will serve our pres-
ent purpose just to point out a few of the extreme absurdi-
ties resulting from the doctrine which Oken seems to hold
in common with Hegel, that " to philosophize on Nature is
to re-think the great thought of Creation." Here is a sam-
ple : —

" Mathematics is the universal science ; so also is Phys-
io-philosophy, although it is only a part, or rather but a
condition of the universe ; both are one, or mutually con-
gruent.

" Mathematics h, however, a science of mere forms
without substance. Physio-philosophy is, therefore, mathe-
matics endowed with substance."

From the English point of view it is sufficiently amus-
ing to find such a dogma not only gravely stated, but
stated as an unquestionable truth. Here we see the expe-

ESTIMATE OF OKEN's SCHEME. 127

riences of quantitative relations which men have gathered
from surrounding bodies and generalized (experiences
which had been scarcely at all generalized at the beginning
of the historic period) — we find these generalized expe-
riences, these intellectual abstractions, elevated into con
crete actualities, projected back into Nature, and consid-
ered as the internal frame-work of things — the skeleton by
which matter is sustained. But this new form of the old
realism, is by no means the most startling of the physio-
philosophic principles. We presently read that,

" The highest mathematical idea, or the fundamental
principle of all mathematics is the zero =s 0." * * *

" Zero is in itself nothing. Mathematics is based upon
nothing, and, consequently ', arises out of nothing.

" Out of nothing, therefore, it is possible for something
to arise ; for mathematics, consisting of propositions, is
something, in relation to 0."

By such " consequentlys" and " therefores" it is, that
men philosophize when they " re-think the great thought
of creation." By dogmas that pretend to be reasons, noth-
ing is made to generate mathematics; and by clothing
mathematics with matter, we have the universe ! If now
we deny, as we do deny, that the highest mathematical idea
is the zero ; — if, on the other hand, we assert, as we do
assert, that the fundamental idea underlying all mathemat-
ics, is that of equality ; the whole of Oken's cosmogony
disappears. And here, indeed, we may see illustrated, the
distinctive peculiarity of the German method of procedure
in these matters — the bastard cb priori method, as it may
be termed. The legitimate a priori method sets out with
propositions of which the negation is inconceivable ; the d
priori method as illegitimately applied, sets out either with
propositions of which the negation is not inconceivable, or
with propositions like Oken's, of which the affirmation is
inconceivable.

128 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

It is needless to proceed further with the analysis ; else
might we detail the steps by which Oken arrives at the
conclusions that " the planets are coagulated colours, for
they are coagulated light ; that the sphere is the expanded
nothing ; " that gravity is " a weighty nothing, a heavy es-
sence, striving towards a centre ; " that " the earth is the
identical, water the indifferent, air the different ; or the
first the centre, the second the radius, the last the peri-
phery of the general globe or of fire." To comment on
them would be nearly as absurd as are the propositions
themselves. Let us pass on to another of the German sys-
tems of knowledge — that of Hegel.

The simple fact that Hegel puts Jacob Boehme on a par
with Bacon, suffices alone to show that his stand-point is
far remote from the one usually regarded as scientific : so
far remote, indeed, that it is not easy to find any common
basis on which to found a criticism. Those who hold that
the mind is moulded into conformity with surrounding
things by the agency of surrounding things, are necessarily
at a loss how to deal with those, who, like Schelling and
Hegel, assert that surrounding things are solidified mind —
that Nature is " petrified intelligence." However, let ua
briefly glance at Hegel's classification. He divides philoso-
phy into three parts : —

1. Logic, or the science of the idea in itself, the pure
idea.

2. The Philosophy of Nature, or the science of the idea
considered under its other form — of the idea as Nature.

3. The Philosophy of the Mind, or the science of the
idea in its return to itself.

Of these, the second is divided into the natural sciences,
commonly so called ; so that in its more detailed form the
series runs thus : — Logic, Mechanics, Physics, Organic Phy-
sics, Psychology.

Now, if we believe with Hegel, first, that thought is tie

hegel's scheme of knowledge. 129

wue essence of man ; second, that thought is the essence of
the world ; and that, therefore, there is nothing but thought ;
his classification, beginning with the science of pure thought,
may be acceptable. But otherwise, it is an obvious objec-
tion to his arrangement, that thought implies things thought
of — that there can be no logical forms without the substance
of experience — that the science of ideas and the science oi
things must have a simultaneous origin. Hegel, however,
anticipates this objection, and, in his obstinate idealism, re-
plies, that the contrary is true ; that all contained in the
forms, to become something, requires to be thought : and
that logical forms are the foundations of all things.

It is not surprising that, starting from such premises, and
reasoning after this fashion, Hegel finds his way to strange
conclusions. Out of space and time he proceeds to build up
motion, matter, repulsion, attraction, weight, and inertia.
He then goes on to logically evolve the solar system. In
doing this he widely diverges from the Newtonian theory ;
reaches by syllogism the conviction that the planets are the
most perfect celestial bodies ; and, not being able to bring
the stars within his theory, says that they are mere formal
existences and not living matter, and that as compared with
the solar system they are as little admirable as a cutaneous
eruption or a swarm of flies.*

Results so outrageous might be left as self-disproved,
were it not that speculators of this class are not alarmed by
any amount of incongruity with established beliefs. The
only efficient mode of treating systems like this of Hegel, is
to show that they are self-destructive — that by their first
steps they ignore that authority on which all their subse-
quent steps depend. If Hegel professes, as he manifestly
does, to develop his scheme by reasoning — if he presents

* It is somewhat curious that the author of " The Plurality of Worlds,"
with quite other aims, should have persuaded himself into similar conclu
siona.

L30 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

successive inferences as necessarily following from certain
premises ; he implies the postulate that a belief which ne-
cessarily follows after certain antecedents is a true belief:
and, did an opponent reply to one of his inferences, that,
though it was impossible to think the opposite, yet the
opposite was true, he would consider the reply irrational
The procedure, however, which he would thus condemn as
destructive of all thinking whatever, is just the procedure
exhibited in the enunciation of his own first principles.

Mankind find themselves unable to conceive that there
can be thought without things thought of. Hegel, how-
ever, asserts that there can be thought without things
thought of. That ultimate test of a true proposition — the
inability of the human mind to conceive the negation of it
— which in all other cases he considers valid, he considers
. invalid where it suits his convenience to do so ; and yet at
the same time denies the right of an opponent to follow his
example. If it is competent for him to posit dogmas, which
are the direct negations of what human consciousness recog-
nises; then is it also competent for his antagonists to stop
him at every step in his argument by saying, that though
the particular inference he is drawing seems to his mind,
and to all minds, necessarily to follow from the premises,
yet it is not true, but the contrary inference is true. Or,
to state the dilemma in another form : — If he sets out with
inconceivable propositions, then may he with equal propri-
ety make all his succeeding propositions inconceivable ones
— may at every step throughout his reasoning draw exactly
the opposite conclusion to that which seems involved.

Hegel's mode of procedure being thus essentially sui-
cidal, the Hegelian classification which depends upon
it, falls to the ground. Let us consider next that ot
1M Comte.

As all his readers must admit, M. Comte presents us
with a scheme of the sciences which, unlike the foregoing

HIGHER CLAIMS OF M. COMTE. 131

ones, demands respectful consideration. Widely as we
differ from him, we cheerfully bear witness to the largeness
of his views, the clearness of his reasoning, and the value
of his speculations as contributing to intellectual progress.
Did we believe a serial arrangement of the sciences to be
possible, that of M. Comte would certainly be the one we
should adopt. His fundamental propositions are thor-
oughly intelligible ; and if not true, have a great semblance
of truth. His successive steps are logically co-ordinated ;
and he supports his conclusions by a considerable amount of
evidence — evidence which, so long as it is not critically exam-
ined, or not met by counter evidence, seems to substantiate
his positions. But it only needs to assume that antagon-
istic attitude which ought to be assumed towards new
doctrines, in the belief that, if true, they will prosper by
conquering objectors — it needs but to test his leading
doctrines either by other facts than those he cites, or by
his own facts differently applied, to at once show that they
will not stand. "We will proceed thus to deal with the
general principle on which he bases his hierarchy of the
sciences.

In the second chapter of his Gours de Philosophic Posi-
tive, M. Comte says : — " Our problem is, then, to find
the one rational order, amongst a host of possible sys-
tems." ..." This order is determined by the degree
of simplicity, or, what comes to the same thing, of general-
ity of their phenomena." And the arrangement he de-
duces runs thus: Mathematics, Astronomy, Physics, Chem-
istry, Physiology, Social Physics. This he asserts to be
" the true filiation of the sciences." He asserts further,
that the principle of progression from a greater to a less
degree of generality, " which gives this order to the whole
body of science, arranges the parts of each science." And,
finally, he asserts that the gradations thus established a
priori among the sciences, and the parts of each science, "is

132 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

in essential conformity with the order which has sponta
neously taken place among the branches of natural philoso
phy ; " or, in other words — corresponds with the order of
historic development.

Let us compare these assertions with the facts. That
there may be perfect fairness, let us make no choice, but
take as the field for our comparison, the succeeding section
treating of the first science — Mathematics ; and let us use
none but M. Comte's own facts, and his. own admissions.
Confining ourselves to this one science, of course our com-
parisons must be between its several parts. M. Comte says,
that the parts of each science must be arranged in the
order of their decreasing generality; and that this oider
of decreasing generality agrees with the order of historic
development. Our inquiry must be, then, whether the his-
tory of mathematics confirms this statement.

Carrying out his principle, M. Comte divides Mathe-
matics into " Abstract Mathematics, or the Calculus (tak-
ing the word in its most extended sense) and Concrete
Mathematics, which is composed of General Geometry and
of Rational Mechanics.'' The subject-matter of the first of
these is number / the subject-matter of the second includes
space, time, motion, force. The one possesses the highest
possible degree of generality ; for all things whatever
admit of enumeration. The others are less general ; see-
ing that there are endless phenomena that are not cogniza-
ble either by general geometry or rational mechanics. In
conformity with the alleged law, therefore, the evolution
of the calculus must throughout have preceded the evolu-
tion of the concrete sub-sciences. Now somewhat awk-
wardly for him, the first remark M. Comte makes bearing
upon this point is, that " from an historical point of view,
mathematical analysis appears to have risen out of the con-
templation of geometrical and mechanical facts." True,
he goes on to say that, " it is not the less independent of

comte's theory of its evolution. 133

these sciences logically speaking ; " for that " analytical
ideas are, above all others, universal, abstract, and simple •
and geometrical conceptions are necessarily founded on
them."

We will not take advantage of this last passage to
charge M. Comte with teaching, after the fashion of Hegel,
that there can be thought without things thought of. We
are content simply to compare the two assertions, that
analysis arose out of the contemplation of geometrical and
mechanical facts, and that geometrical conceptions are
founded upon analytical ones. Literally interpreted they
exactly cancel each other. Interpreted, however, in a
liberal sense, they imply, what we believe to be de-
monstrable, that the two had a simultaneous origin. The
passage is either nonsense, or it is an admission that
abstract and concrete mathematics are coeval. Thus,
at the very first step, the alleged congruity between the
order of generality and the order of evolution, does not
hold good.

But may it not be that though abstract and concrete
mathematics took their rise at the same time, the one
afterwards developed more rapidly than the other ; and
has ever since remained in advance of it ? No : and again
we call M. Comte himself as witness. Fortunately for his
argument he has said nothing respecting the early stages
of the concrete and abstract divisions after their diver-
gence from a common root ; otherwise the advent of
Algebra long after the Greek geometry had reached a high
development, would have been an inconvenient fact for
him to deal with. But passing over this, and limiting
ourselves to his own statements, we find, at the opening of
the next chapter, the admission, that "the historical de-
velopment of the abstract portion of mathematical science
has, siDce the time of Descartes, been for the most part
determined by that of the concrete." Further on we read

134 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

respecting algebraic functions that " most functions were
concrete in their origin — even those which are at present
the most purely abstract ; and the ancients discovered
only through geometrical definitions elementary algebraic
properties of functions to which a numerical value was not
attached till long afterwards, rendering abstract to us
what was concrete to the old geometers." How do these
statements tally with his doctrine ? Again, having divided
the calculus into algebraic and arithmetical, M. Comte
admits, as perforce he must, that the algebraic is more
general than the arithmetical ; yet he will not say that
algebra preceded arithmetic in point of time. And again,
having divided the calculus of functions into the calculus
of direct functions (common algebra) and the calculus of
indirect functions (transcendental analysis), he is obliged
to speak of this last as possessing a higher generality than
the first ; yet it is far more modern. Indeed, by implica-
tion, M. Comte himself confesses this incongruity ; for he
says : — " It might seem that the transcendental analysis
ought to be studied before the ordinary, as it provides the
equations which the other has to resolve ; but though the
transcendental is logically independent of the ordinary, it
is best to follow the usual method of study, taking the
ordinary first." In all these cases, then, as well as at the
close of the section where he predicts that mathematicians
will in time " create procedures of a wider generality ," M.
Comte makes admissions that are diametrically opposed to
the alleged law.

In the succeeding chapters treating of the concrete de-
partment of mathematics, we find similar contradictions.
M. Comte himself names the geometry of the ancients spe-
cial geometry, and that of moderns the general geometry.
He admits that while " the ancients studied geometry with
reference to the bodies under notice, or specially; the
moderns study it with reference to the phenomena to be

OBJECTIONS TO COMTE's TIIEORY. 135

considered, or generally." He admits that while " the an
cients extracted all they could out of one line or surface
before passing to another," " the moderns, since Descartes,
employ themselves on questions which relate to any figure
whatever." These facts are the reverse of what, according
to his theory, they should be. So, too, in mechanics. Be-
fore dividing it into statics and dynamics, M. Comte treats
of the three laws of motion, and is obliged to do so ; for
statics, the more general of the two divisions, though it
does not involve motion, is impossible as a science until the
laws of motion are ascertained. Yet the laws of motion
pertain to dynamics, the more special of the divisions.
Further on he points out that after Archimedes, who dis-
covered the law of equilibrium of the lever, statics made
no progress until the establishment of dynamics enabled us
to seek " the conditions of equilibrium through the laws of
the composition of forces." And he adds — " At this day
this is the method universally employed. At the first glance
it does not appear the most rational — dynamics being more
complicated than statics, and precedence being natural to the
simpler. It would, in fact, be more philosophical to refer
dynamics to statics, as has since been done. " Sundry dis-
coveries are afterwards detailed, showing how completely
the development of statics has been achieved by consider-
ing its problems dynamically ; and before the close of the
section M. Comte remarks that " before hydrostatics could
be comprehended under statics, it was necessary that the
abstract theory of equilibrium should be made so general
as to apply directly to fluids as well as solids. This was ac-
complished when Lagrange supplied, as the basis of the
whole of rational mechanics, the single principle of virtual
velocities." In which statement we have two facts directly
at variance with M. Comte's doctrine ; — first, that the sim-
pler science, statics, reached its present development only
by the aid of the principle of virtual velocities, which be-

136 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

longs to the more complex science, dynamics ; and that this
" single principle " underlying all rational mechanics — this
most general form which includes alike the relations of stat-
ical, hydrostatical, and dynamical forces — was reached so
late as the time of Lagrange.

Thus it is not true that the historical succession of the
divisions of mathematics has corresponded with the order
of decreasing generality. It is not true that abstract math-
ematics was evolved antecedently to, and independently
of concrete mathematics. It is not true that of the sub-
divisions of abstract mathematics, the more general came
before the more special. And it is not true that concrete
mathematics, in either of its two sections, began with the
most abstract and advanced to the less abstract truths.

It may be well to mention, parenthetically, that in de-
fending his alleged law of progression from the general to
the special, M. Comte somewhere comments upon the two
meanings of the word general, and the resulting liability to
confusion. Without now discussing whether the asserted
distinction can be maintained in other cases, it is manifest
that it does not exist here. In sundry of the instances
above quoted, the endeavors made by M. Comte himself to
disguise, or to explain away, the precedence of the special
over the general, clearly indicate that the generality spoken
of, is of the kind meant by his formula. And it needs but
a brief consideration of the matter to show that, even did
he attempt it, he could not distinguish this generality, which,
as above proved, frequently comes last, from the generality
which he says always comes first. For what is the nature
of that mental process by which objects, dimensions,
weights, times, and the rest, are found capable of having
their relations expressed numerically ? It is the formation
of certain abstract conceptions of unity, duality and multi-
plicity, which are applicable to all things alike. It is the
invention of general symbols serving to express the numer.

DIVISIONS OF MATHEMATICS, HOW RELATED. 137

teal relations of entities, whatever be their special charac-
ters. And what is the nature of the mental process by
which numbers are found capable of having their relations
expressed algebraically ? It is just the same. It is the for-
mation of certain abstract conceptions of numerical func-
tions which are the same whatever be the magnitudes of
the numbers. It is the invention of general symbols serv-
ing to express the relations between numbers, as numbers
express the relations between things. And transcendental
analysis stands to algebra in the same position that algebra
stands in to arithmetic.

To briefly illustrate their respective powers ; — arithme-
tic can express in one formula the value of a particular
tangent to a particular curve ; algebra can express in one
formula the values of all tangents to a particular curve ;
transcendental analysis can express in one formula the val-
ues of all tangents to all curves. Just as arithmetic deals
with the common properties of lines, areas, bulks, forces,
periods ; so does algebra deal with the common properties
of the numbers which arithmetic presents ; so does tran-
scendental analysis deal with the common properties of the
equations exhibited by algebra. Thus, the generality of
the higher branches of the calculus, when compared with
the lower, is the same kind of generality as that of the lower
branches when compared with geometry or mechanics.
And on examination it will be found that the like relation
exists in the various other cases above given.

Having shown that M. Comte's alleged law of progres-
sion does not hold among the several parts of the same
science, let us see how it agrees with the facts when applied
to separate sciences. " Astronomy," says M. Comte, at the
opening of Book III., " was a positive science, in its geo-
metrical aspect, from the earliest days of the school of Alex-
andria ; but Physics, which we are now to consider, had no
positive character at all till Galileo made his great discov-

138 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

eries on the fall of heavy bodies." On this, our comment is
simply that it is a misrepresentation based upon an arbi-
trary misuse of words — a mere verbal artifice. By choosing
to exclude from terrestrial physics those laws of magnitude,
motion, and position, which he includes in celestial physics,
M. Comte makes it appear that the one owes nothing to
the other. Not only is this altogether unwarrantable, but
it is radically inconsistent with his own scheme of divisions.
At the outset he says — and as the point is important we
quote from the original — " Pour la physique inorganique
nous voyons d'abord, en nous conformant toujours a l'ordre
de generalite et de dependance des phenomenes, quelle doit
etre partagee en deux sections distinctes, suivant qu'elle
considere les phenomenes generaux de l'univers, ou, en par-
ticulier, ceux que presentent les corps terrestres. D'oii la
physique celeste, ou l'astronomie, soit geometrique, soit
mechanique ; et la physique terrestre."

Here then we have inorganic physics clearly divided
into celestial physics and terrestrial physics — the pheno-
mena presented by the universe, and the phenomena pre-
sented by earthly bodies. If now celestial bodies and ter-
restrial bodies exhibit sundry leading phenomena in com-
mon, as they do, how can the generalization of these com-
mon phenomena be considered as pertaining to the one class
rather than to the other ? If inorganic physics includes
geometry (which M. Comte has made it do by comprehend-
ing geometrical astronomy in its sub-section — celestial phy-
sics) ; and if its sub-section — terrestrial physics, treats of
things having geometrical properties ; how can the laws of
geometrical relations be excluded from terrestrial physics ?
Clearly if celestial physics includes the geometry of ob-
jects in the heavens, terrestrial physics includes the geometry
of objects on the earth. And if terrestrial physics includes
terrestrial geometry, while celestial physics includes celestial
geometry, then the geometrical part of terrestrial physics

TERRESTRIAL MECHANICS PRECEDES CELESTIAL. 139

precedes the geometrical part of celestial physics ; see-
ing that geometry gained its first ideas from surrounding
objects. Until men had learnt geometrical relations from
bodies on the earth, it was impossible for them to under-
stand the geometrical relations of bodies in the heavens.

So, too, with celestial mechanics, which had terrestrial
mechanics for its parent. The very conception of force,
which underlies the whole of mechanical astronomy, is bor-
rowed from our earthly experiences ; and the leading laws
of mechanical action as exhibited in scales, levers, projec-
tiles, &c, had to be ascertained before the dynamics of the
solar system could be entered upon. What were the laws
made use of by Newton in working out his grand discovery?
The law of falling bodies disclosed by Galileo ; that of the
composition of forces also disclosed by Galileo ; and that
of centrifugal force found out by Huyghens — all of them
generalizations of terrestrial physics. Yet, with facts like
these before him, M. Comte places astronomy before phy-
sics in order of evolution ! He does not compare the geo-
metrical parts of the two together, and the mechanical
parts of the two together ; for this would by no means
suit his hypothesis. But he compares the geometrical part
of the one with the mechanical part of the other, and so
gives a semblance of truth to his position. He is led away
by a verbal delusion. Had he confined his attention to the
things and disregarded the words, he would have seen that
before mankind scientifically co-ordinated any one class of
phenomena displayed in the heavens, they had previously
co-ordinated a parallel class of phenomena displayed upon
the surface of the earth.

Were it needful we could fill a score pages with the in-
congruities of M. Comte's scheme. But the foregoing sam-
ples will suffice. So far is his law of evolution of the
sciences from being tenable, that, by following his exam-
ple, and arbitrarily ignoring one class of facts, it would be

1.40 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

possible to present, with great plausibility, just the opposite
generalization to that which he enunciates. While he as-
serts that the rational order of the sciences, like the ordei
of their historic development, " is determined by the de-
gree of simplicity, or, what comes to the same thing, of
generality of their phenomena;" it might contrariwise be
asserted, that, commencing with the complex and the spe-
cial, mankind have progressed step by step to a knowledge
of greater simplicity and wider generality. So much evi-
dence is there of this as to have drawn from Whewell, in
his History of the Inductive Sciences, the general remark
that " the reader has already seen repeatedly in the course
of this history, complex and derivative principles present-
ing themselves to men's minds before simple and elemen.
tary ones."

Even from M. Comte's own work, numerous facts, ad
missions, and arguments, might be picked out, tending to
show this. We have already quoted his words in proof
that both abstract and concrete mathematics have pro-
gressed towards a higher degree of generality, and that he
looks forward to a higher generality still. Just to strength-
en this adverse hypothesis, let us take a further instance.
From the particular case of the scales, the law of equilibri-
um of which was familiar to the earliest nations known, Ar-
chimedes advanced to the more general case of the unequal
lever with unequal weights; the law of equilibrium of
which includes that of the scales. By the help of Galileo's
discovery concerning the composition of forces, D'Alembert
*' established, for the first time, the equations of equilibrium
of any system of forces applied to the different points of a
solid body " — equations which include all cases of levers
and an infinity of cases besides. Clearly this is progress
towards a higher generality — towards a knowledge more
independent of special circumstances — towards a study of
phenomena " the most disengaged from the incidents of

TWOFOLD PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 141

particular cases ; " which is M. Comte's definition of " the
most simple phenomena." Does it not indeed follow from
the familiarly admitted fact, that mental advance is from
the concrete to the abstract, from the particular to the gen-
eral, that the universal and therefore most simple truths are
the last to be discovered ? Is not the government of the
6olar system by a force varying inversely as the square of
the distance, a simpler conception than any that preceded
it ? Should we ever succeed in reducing all orders of phe-
nomena to some single law — say of atomic action, as M.
Comte suggests — must not that law answer to his test of
being independent of all others, and therefore most simple ?
And would not such a law generalize the phenomena of
gravity, cohesion, atomic affinity, and electric repulsion, just
as the laws of number generalize the quantitative phenom-
ena of space, time and force ?

The possibility of saying so much in support of an hypo-
thesis the very reverse of M. Comte's, at once proves that
his generalization is only a half-truth. The fact is, that
neither proposition is correct by itself; and the actuality is
expressed only by putting the two together. The progress
of science is duplex : it is at once from the special to the
general, and from the general to the special : it is analytical
and synthetical at the same time.

M. Comte himself observes that the evolution of science
has been accomplished by the division of labour; bat he
quite misstates the mode in which this division of labour
has operated. As he describes it, it has simply been an ar-
rangement of phenomena into classes, and the study of each
class by itself. He does not recognise the constant effect
of progress in each class upon all other classes ; but only on
the class succeeding it in his hierarchical scale. Or if he
occasionally admits collateral influences and intercommuni-
cations, he does it so grudgingly, and so quickly puts the
admissions out of sight and forgets them, as to leave the

142 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

impression that, with but trifling exceptions, the sciences
aid each other only in the order of their alleged succession.
The fact is, however, that the division of labour in science,
like the division of labour in society, and like the " physio-
logical division of labour " in individual organisms, has been
not only a specialization of functions, but a continuous help-
ing of each division by all the others, and of all by each.
Every particular class of inquirers has, as it were, secreted
its own particular order of truths from the general mass of
material which observation accumulates ; and all other
classes of inquirers have made use of these truths as fast
as they were elaborated, with the effect of enabling them
the better to elaborate each its own order of truths.

It was thus in sundry of the cases we have quoted as at
variance with M. Comte's doctrine. It was thus with the
application of Huyghens's optical discovery to astronomical
observation by Galileo. It was thus with the application
of the isochronism of the pendulum to the making of in-
struments for measuring intervals, astronomical and other.
It was thus when the discovery that the refraction and dis-
persion of light did not follow the same law of variation,
affected both astronomy and physiology by giving us achro-
matic telescopes and microscopes. It was thus when Brad-
ley's discovery of the aberration of light enabled him to
make the first step towards ascertaining the motions of the
stars. It was thus when Cavendish's torsion-balance ex-
periment determined the specific gravity of the earth, and
so gave a datum for calculating the specific gravities of the
sun and planets. It was thus when tables of atmospheric
refraction enabled observers to write down the real places
of the heavenly bodies instead of their apparent places. It
was thus when the discovery of the different expansibilities
of metals by heat, gave us the means of correcting our
chronometrical measurements of astronomical periods. It
was thus when the lines of the prismatic spectrum were

CONDITIONS OF ASTRONOMIC PROGRESS. 143

used to distinguish the heavenly bodies that are of like na-
ture with the sun from those -which are not. It was thug
when, as recently, an electro-telegraphic instrument was in-
vented for the more accurate registration of meridional
transits. It was thus when the difference in the rates of a
clock at the equator, and nearer the poles, gave data for
calculating the oblateness of the earth, and accounting for
the precession of the equinoxes. It was thus — but it is
needless to continue.

Here, within our own limited knowledge of its history, we
have named ten additional cases in which the single science
of astronomy has owed its advance to sciences coming after
it in M. Comte's series. Not only its secondary steps, but
its greatest revolutions have been thus determined. Kep-
ler could not have discovered his celebrated laws had it not
been for Tycho Brahe's accurate observations ; and it was
only after some progress in physical and chemical science
that the improved instruments with which those observa-
tions were made, became possible. The heliocentric theory
of the solar system had to wait until the invention of the
telescope before it could be finally established. Nay, even
the grand discovery of all — the law of gravitation — depend-
ed for its proof upon an operation of physical science, the
measurement of a degree on the Earth's surface. So complete-
ly indeed did it thus depend, that Newton had actually
abandoned his hypothesis because the length of a degree,
as then stated, brought out wrong results ; and it was only
after Picart's more exact measurement was published, that
he returned to his calculations and proved his great gener-
alization. Now this constant intercommunion, which, for
brevity's sake, we have illustrated in the case of one science
only, has been taking place with all the sciences. Through-
out the whole course of their evolution there has been a
continuous consensus of the sciences — a consensus exhibit-
ing a general correspondence with the consensus of facul
8

144 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

ties in each phase of mental development ; the one being
an objective registry of the subjective state of the other.

From our present point of view, then, it becomes obvi-
ous that the conception of a serial arrangement of the sci-
ences is a vicious one. It is not simply that the schemes
we have examined are untenable; but it is that the sciences
cannot be rightly placed in any linear order whatever. It
is not simply that, as M. Comte admits, a classification
" will always involve something, if not arbitrary, at least
artificial ; " it is not, as he would have us believe, that,
neglecting minor imperfections a classification may be sub-
stantially true ; but it is that any grouping of the sciences
in a succession gives a radically erroneous idea of their
genesis and their dependencies. There is no " one rational
order among a host of possible systems." There is no
" true filiation of the sciences." The whole hypothesis is
fundamentally false. Indeed, it needs but a glance at its
origin to see at once how baseless it is. Why a series f
What reason have we to suppose that the sciences admit
of a linear arrangement? Where is our warrant for
assuming that there is some succession in which they can
be placed? There is no reason; no warrant. Whence
then has arisen the supposition ? To use M. Comte's own
phraseology, we should say, it is a metaphysical conception.
It adds another to the cases constantly occurring, of the
human mind being made the measure of Nature. We are
obliged to think in sequence ; it is the law of our minds
that we must consider subjects separately, one after
another : therefore Nature must be serial — therefore the
sciences must be classifiable in a succession. See here the
birth of the notion, and the sole evidence of its truth.
Men have been obliged when arranging in books their
schemes of education and systems of knowledge, to choose
some order or other. And from inquiring what is the best

THE SERIAL ORDER ERRONEOUS. 145

order, have naturally fallen into the belief that there is an
order which truly represents the facts — have persevered in
seeking such an order; quite overlooking the previous
question whether it is likely that Nature has consulted the
convenience of book-making.

For German philosophers, who hold that Nature is
B petrified intelligence," and that logical forms are the
foundations of all things, it is a consistent hypothesis that
as thought is serial, Nature is serial ; but that M. Comte,
who is so bitter an opponent of all anthropomorphism,
even in its most evanescent shapes, should have committed
the mistake of imposing upon the external world an ar-
rangement which so obviously springs from a limitation of
the human consciousness, is somewhat strange. And it is
the more strange when we call to mind how, at the outset,
M. Comte remarks that in the beginning " toutes les sciences
sont cultivees simultanement par les memes esprits / " that
this is " inevitable et meme indispensable y " and how he
further remarks that the different sciences are " comme
les diverses branches dPun tronc unique." Were it not
accounted for by the distorting influence of a cherished
hypothesis, it would be scarcely possible to understand
how, after recognising truths like these, M. Comte should
have persisted in attempting to construct u une echelle en-
eyclopedique."

The metaphor which M. Comte has here so inconsis-
tently used to express the relations of the sciences —
branches of one trunk — is an approximation to the truth,
though not the truth itself. It suggests the facts that the
sciences had a common origin ; that they have been de-
veloping simultaneously ; and that they have been from
time to time dividing and sub-dividing. But it does not
suggest the yet more important fact, that the divisions and
sub-divisions thus arising do not remain separate, but now
and again re-unite in direct and indirect ways. They

146 THE GENESIS OE SCIENCE.

inosculate ; they severally send off and receive connecting
growths ; and the intercommunion has been ever becom-
ing more frequent, more intricate, more widely ramified.
There has all along been higher specialization, that there
might be a larger generalization ; and a deeper analysis,
that there might be a better synthesis. Each larger gen-
eralization has lifted sundry specializations still higher ; and
each better synthesis has prepared the way for still deeper
analysis.

And here we may fitly enter upon the task awhile since
indicated — a sketch of the Genesis of Science, regarded as
a gradual outgrowth from common knowledge — an exten-
sion of the perceptions by the aid of the reason. We pro-
pose to treat it as a psychological process historically dis-
played ; tracing at the same time the advance from qualita-
tive to quantitative prevision ; the progress from concrete
facts to abstract facts, and the application of such abstract
facts to the analysis of new orders of concrete facts ; the
simultaneous advance in gereralization and specialization ;
the continually increasing subdivision and reunion of the
sciences ; and their constantly improving consensus.

To trace out scientific evolution from its deepest roois
would, of course, involve a complete analysis of the mind.
For as science is a development of that common knowledge
acquired by the unaided senses and uncultured reason, so
is that common knowledge itself gradually built up out of*
the simplest perceptions. We must, therefore, begin
somewhere abruptly ; and the most appropriate stage
to take for our point of departure will be the adult mind
of the savage.

Commencing thus, without a proper preliminary analy-
sis, we are naturally somewhat at a loss how to present, in
a satisfactory manner, those fundamental processes of
thought out of which science ultimately originates. Per-

WHERE INTELLIGENCE BEGINS. 147

haps our argument may be best initiated by the proposi
tion, that all intelligent action whatever depends upon the
discerning of distinctions among surrounding things. The
condition under which only it is possible for any creature
to obtain food and avoid danger is, that it shall be differ-
ently affected by different objects — that it shall be led to
act in one way by one object, and in another way by
another. In the lower orders of creatures this condition is
fulfilled by means of an apparatus which acts automatically.
In the higher orders the actions are partly automatic,
partly conscious. And in man they are almost wholly
conscious.

Throughout, however, there must necessarily exist a
certain classification of things according to their properties
— a classification which is either organically registered in
the system, as in the inferior creation, or is formed by
experience, as in ourselves. And it may be further re-
marked, that the extent to which this classification is
carried, roughly indicates the height of intelligence — that,
while the lowest organisms are able to do little more than
discriminate organic from inorganic matter ; while the
generality of animals carry their classifications no further
than to a limited number of plants or creatures serving
for food, a limited number of beasts of prey, and a limited
number of places and materials ; the most degraded of the
human race possess a knowledge of the distinctive natures
of a great variety of substances, plants, animals, tools, per-
sons, &c, not only as classes but as individuals.

What now is the mental process by which classification
is effected ? Manifestly it is a recognition of the likeness
or unlikeness of things, either in respect of their sizes,
colours, forms, weights, textures, tastes, &c, or in respect
of their modes of action. By some special mark, sound, or
motion, the savage identifies a certain four-legged crea-
ture he sees, as one that is good for food, and to be caught

148 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

in a particular way ; or as one that is dangerous ; and acts
accordingly. He has classed together all the creatures
that are alike in this particular. And manifestly in choos-
ing the wood out of which to form his bow, the plant with
which to poison his arrows, the bone from which to make
his fish-hooks, he identifies them through their chief sensi-
ble properties as belonging to the general classes, wood,
plant, and bone, but distinguishes them as belonging to
sub-classes by virtue of certain properties in which they are
unlike the rest of the general classes they belong to; and so
forms genera and species.

And here it becomes manifest that not only is classifica-
tion carried on by grouping together in the mind things
that are like / but that classes and sub-classes are formed
and arranged according to the degrees ofunlikeness. Things
widely contrasted are alone distinguished in the lower
stages of mental evolution ; as may be any day observed in
an infant. And gradually as the powers of discrimination
increase, the widely contrasted classes at first distinguished,
come to be each divided into sub-classes, differing from
each other less than the classes differ ; and these sub-classes
are again divided after the same manner. By the continu-
ance of which process, things are gradually arranged into
groups, the members of which are less and less unlike /
ending, finally, in groups whose members differ only as
individuals, and not specifically. And thus there tends
ultimately to arise the notion of complete likeness. For
manifestly, it is impossible that groups should continue to
be sub-divided in virtue of smaller and smaller differences,
without there being a simultaneous approximation to the
notion of no difference.

Let us next notice that the recognition of likeness and
unlikeness, which underlies classification, and out of which
continued classification evolves the idea of complete like-
ness— let us next notice that it also underlies the process

THE KOOT OF PRIMITIVE LANGUAGE. 149

of naming, and by consequence language. For all lan-
guage consists, at the beginning, of symbols which are as
like to the things symbolized as it is practicable to make
them. The language of signs is a means of conveying ideas
by mimicking the actions or peculiarities of the things re-
ferred to. Verbal language is also, at the beginning, a
mode of suggesting objects or acts by imitating the sounds
which the objects make, or with which the acts are accom-
panied. Originally these two languages were used simul-
taneously. It needs but to watch the gesticulations with
which the savage accompanies his speech — to see a Bush-
man or a Kaffir dramatizing before an audience his mode
of catching game — or to note the extreme paucity of
words in all primitive vocabularies ; to infer that at first,
attitudes, gestures, and sounds, were all combined to pro-
duce as good a likeness as possible, of the things, animals,
persons, or events described ; and that as the sounds came
to be understood by themselves the gestures fell into dis-
use : leaving traces, however, in the manners of the more
excitable civilized races. But be this as it may, it suffices
simply to observe, how many of the words current among
barbarous peoples are like the sounds appertaining to the
things signified ; how many of our own oldest and simplest
words have the same peculiarity ; how children tend to in-
vent imitative words ; and how the sign-language sponta-
neously formed by deaf mutes is invariably based upon
imitative actions — to at once see that the notion of likeness
is that from wThich the nomenclature of objects takes its
rise.

Were there space we might go on to point out how this
law of life is traceable, not only in the origin but in the de-
velopment of language ; how in primitive tongues the plu-
ral is made by a duplication of the singular, which is a
multiplication of the word to make it like the multiplicity
of the things ; how the use of metaphor — that prolific

L50 the genesis of science.

source of new words — is a suggesting of ideas that are like
the ideas to be conveyed in some respect or other ; and
how, in the copious use of simile, fable, and allegory among
uncivilized races, we see that complex conceptions, which
there is yet no direct language for, are rendered, by pre-
senting knowm conceptions more or less like them.

This view is further confirmed, and the predominance
of this notion of likeness in primitive times further illus-
trated, by the fact that our system of presenting ideas to
the eye originated after the same fashion. Writing and
printing have descended from picture-language. The ear-
liest mode of permanently registering a fact was by depict-
ing it on a wall ; that is — by exhibiting something as like to
the thing to be remembered as it could be made. Grad-
ually as the practice grew habitual and extensive, the most
frequently repeated forms became fixed, and presently ab-
breviated ; and, passing through the hieroglyphic and ideo-
graphic phases, the symbols lost all apparent relations to
the things signified : just as the majority of our spoken
words have done.

Observe again, that the same thing is true respecting
the genesis of reasoning. The likeness that is perceived to
exist between cases, is the essence of all early reasoning
and of much of our present reasoning. The savage, hav-
ing by experience discovered a relation between a certain
object and a certain act, infers that the like relation will be
found in future cases. And the expressions we constantly
use in our arguments — " analogy implies," " the cases are
not parallel," " by parity of reasoning," " there is no simi-
larity^— show how constantly the idea of likeness under-
lies our ratiocinative processes.

Still more clearly will this be seen on recognising the
fact that there is a certain parallelism between reasoning
and classification ; that the two have a common root ; and
that neither can go on without the other. For on the one

THE NATURE OF LIKENESS IX EEASONLNG AND ART. 151

hand, it is a familiar truth that the attributing to a body in
consequence of some of its properties, all those other prop-
erties in virtue of which it is referred to a particular class,
is an act of inference. And, on the other hand, the form-
ing of a generalization is the putting together in one class,
all those cases which present like relations ; while the draw-
ing a deduction is essentially the perception that a particu-
lar case belongs to a certain class of cases previously gener-
alized. So that as classification is a grouping together of
like things / reasoning is a grouping together of like rela-
tions among things. Add to which, that while the perfec-
tion gradually achieved in classification consists in the form-
ation of groups of objects which are completely alike ; the
perfection gradually achieved in reasoning consists in the
formation of groups of cases which are completely alike.

Once more we may contemplate this dominant idea of
likeness as exhibited in art. All art, civilized as well as
savage, consists almost wholly in the making of objects like
other objects ; either as found in Nature, or as produced
by previous art. If we trace back the varied art-products
now existing, we find that at each stage the divergence
from previous patterns is but small when compared with
the agreement ; and in the earliest art the persistency of
imitation is yet more conspicuous. The old forms and
ornaments and symbols were held sacred, and perpetually
copied. Indeed, the strong imitative tendency notoriously
displayed by the lowest human races, ensures among them
a constant reproducing of likenesses of things, forms, signs,
eounds, actions, and whatever else is imitable ; and we may
even suspect that this aboriginal peculiarity is in some way
connected with the culture and development of this gen-
eral conception, which we have found so deep and wide-
spread in its applications.

And now let us go on to consider how, by a further
unfolding of this same fundamental notion, there is a grad-

152 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

aal formation of the first germs of science. This idea of
likeness which underlies classification, nomenclature, lan-
guage spoken and written, reasoning, and art ; and wThich
plays so important a part because all acts' of intelligence
are made possible only by distinguishing among surround-
ing things, or grouping them into like and unlike ; — this
idea we shall find to be the one of which science is the es-
pecial product. Already during the stage we have been
describing, there has existed qualitative prevision in re-
spect to the commoner phenomena with which savage life
is familiar ; and we have now to inquire how the elements
of quantitative prevision are evolved. We shall find that
they originate by the perfecting of this same idea of like-
ness ; that they have their rise in that conception of com-
plete likeness which, as we have seen, necessarily results
from the continued process of classification.

For when the process of classification has been carried
as far as it is possible for the uncivilized to carry it — when
the animal kingdom has been grouped not merely into
quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects, but each of these di-
vided into kinds — when there come to be sub-classes, in
each of which the members differ only as individuals, and
not specifically ; it is clear that there must occur a frequent
observation of objects which differ so little as to be indis-
tinguishable. Among several creatures which the savage
has killed and carried home, it must often happen that
some one, which he wished to identify, is so exactly like
another that he cannot tell which is which. Thus, then,
there originates the notion of equality. The things which
among ourselves are called equal — whether lines, angles,
weights, temperatures, sounds or colours — are things which
produce in us sensations that cannot be distinguished from
each other. It is true that we now apply the word equal
chiefly to the separate phenomena which objects exhibit,
and not to groups of phenomena ; but this limitation of the

IDExVS OF EQUALITY AND SIMILARITY. 153

idea has evidently arisen by subsequent analysis. And that
the notion of equality did thus originate, will, we think,
become obvious on remembering that as there were no ar-
tificial objects from which it could have been abstracted, it
must have been abstracted from natural objects ; and that
the various families of the animal kingdom chiefly furnish
those natural objects which display the requisite exactitude
of likeness.

The same order of experiences out of which this gene-
ral idea of equality is evolved, gives birth at the same time
to a more complex idea of equality ; or, rather, the process
just described generates an idea of equality which further
experience separates into two ideas — equality of things and
equality of relations. While organic, and more especially
animal forms, occasionally exhibit this perfection of likeness
out of which the notion of simple equality arises, they more
frequently exhibit only that kind of likeness which we call
similarity / and which is really compound equality. For
the similarity of two creatures of the same species but of
different sizes, is of the same nature as the similarity of two
geometrical figures. In either case, any two parts of the
one bear the same ratio to one another, as the homologous
parts of the other. Given in any species, the proportions
found to exist among the bones, and we may, and zoologists
do, predict from any one, the dimensions of the rest ; just as,
when knowing the proportions subsisting among the parts
of a geometrical figure, we may, from the length of one,
calculate the others. And if, in the case of similar geome-
trical figures, the similarity can be established only by
proving exactness of proportion among the homologous
parts ; if we express this relation between two parts in the
one, and the corresponding parts in the other, by the for-
mula A is to B as a is to b ; if we otherwise write this, A
to B=a to b / if, consequently, the fact we prove is that
the relation of A to B equals the relation of a to b / then

154 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

it is manifest that the fundamental conception of similarity
is equality of relations.

With this explanation we shall be understood when we
say that the notion of equality of relations is the basis of
all exact, reasoning. Already it has been shown that reasoning
in general is a recognition of likeness of relations ; and
here we further find that while the notion of likeness of
things ultimately evolves the idea of simple equality, the
notion of likeness of relations evolves the idea of equality
of relations : of which the one is the concrete germ of ex-
act science, while the other is its abstract germ.

Those who cannot understand how the recognition of
similarity in creatures of the same kind, can have any alli-
ance with reasoning, will get over the difficulty on remem-
bering that the phenomena among which equality of rela-
tions is thus perceived, are phenomena of the same order
and are present to the senses at the same time ; while those
among which developed reason perceives relations, are gen-
erally neither of the same order, nor simultaneously present.
And if further, they will call to mind how Cuvier and Owen,
from a single part of a creature, as a tooth, construct the
rest by a process of reasoning based on this equality of re-
lations, they will see that the two things are intimately
connected, remote as they at first seem. But we anticipate.
What it concerns us here to observe is, that from familiari-
ty with organic forms there simultaneously arose the ideas
of simple equality, and equality of relations.

At the same time, too, and out of the same mental pro-
cesses, came the first distinct ideas of number. In the earli-
est stages, the presentation of several like objects produced
merely an indefinite conception of multiplicity ; as it still
does among Australians, and Bushmen, and Damaras, when
the number presented exceeds three or four. With such a
fact before us we may safely infer that the first clear numer-
ical conception was that of duality as contrasted with uni-

THE GERM OF NUMERICAL IDEAS. 155

ty. And this notion of duality must necessarily have grown
up side by side with those of likeness and equality ; seeing
that it is impossible to recognise the likeness of two things
without also perceiving that there are two. From the
very beginning the conception of number must have been,
as it is still, associated with the likeness or equality of
the thiugs numbered. If we analyze it, we find that sim-
ple enumeration is a registration of repeated impres-
sions of any kind. That these may be capable of enu-
meration it is needful that they be more or less alike ; and
before any absolutely true numerical results can be reach-
ed, it is requisite that the units be absolutely equal. The
only way in which we can establish a numerical relation-
ship between things that do not yield us like impressions,
is to divide them into parts that do yield us like impres-
sions. Two unlike magnitudes of extension, force, time,
weight, or what not, can have their relative amounts esti-
mated, only by means of some small unit that is contained
many times in both ; and even if we finally write clown the
greater one as a unit and the other as a fraction of it, we
state, in the denominator of the fraction, the number of
parts into which the unit must be divided to be compara-
ble with the fraction.

It is, indeed, true, that by an evidently modern process of
abstraction, we occasionally apply numbers to unequal units,
as the furniture at a sale or the various animals on a farm,
simply as so many separate entities ; but no true result can
be brought out by calculation with units of this order.
And, indeed, it is the distinctive peculiarity of the calculus
in general, that it proceeds on the hypothesis of that abso-
lute equality of its abstract units, which no real units pos-
sess ; and that the exactness of its results holds only in
virtue of this hypothesis. The first ideas of number must
necessarily then have been derived from like or equal mag-
nitudes as seen chiefly in organic objects ; and as the like

156 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

magnitudes most frequently observed were magnitudes of
extension, it follows that geometry and arithmetic had a
simultaneous origin.

Not only are the first distinct ideas of number co-ordin
ate with ideas of likeness and equality, but the first efforts
at numeration displayed the same relationship. On read-
ing the accounts of various savage tribes, we find that the
method of counting by the fingers, still followed by many
children, is the aboriginal method. Neglecting the several
cases in which the ability to enumerate does not reach even
to the number of fingers on one hand, there are many cases
in which it does not extend beyond ten — the limit of the
simple finger notation. The fact that in so many instances,
remote, and seemingly unrelated nations, have adopted ten
as their basic number ; together with the fact that in the re-
maining instances the basic number is either Jive (the fingers
of one hand) or twenty (the fingers and toes) ; almost of
themselves show that the fingers were the original units of
numeration. The still surviving use of the word digit, as
the general name for a figure in arithmetic, is significant ;
and it is even said that our word ten (Sax. tyn ; Dutch,
tien ; German, zehn) means in its primitive expanded form
two hands. So that originally, to say there were ten things,
was to say there were two hands of them.

From all which evidence it is tolerably clear that the
earliest mode of conveying the idea of any number of
things, was by holding up as many fingers as there were
things ; that is —using a symbol which was equal, in respect
of multiplicity, to the group symbolized. For which infer-
ence there is, indeed, strong confirmation in the recent
statement that our own soldiers are even now sj>ontaneous-
ly adopting this device in their dealings with the Turks.
And here it should be remarked that in this recombination
of the notion of equality with that of multiplicity, by which
the first steps in numeration are effected, we may see one

EARLY INTELLECTUAL GROWTHS NON-SERIAL. 157

of the earliest of those inosculations between the diverging
branches of science, which are afterwards of perpetual occur-
rence.

Indeed, as this observation suggests, it will be well, be-
fore tracing the mode in which exact science finally emerges
from the merely approximate judgments of the senses, and
showing the non-serial evolution of its divisions, to note
the non-serial character of those preliminary processes of
which all after development is a continuation. On re-con-
sidering them it will be seen that not only are they diver-
gent growths from a common root, — not only are they sim-
ultaneous in their progress ; but that they are mutual aids ;
and that none can advance without the rest. That com-
pleteness of classification for which the unfolding of the
perceptions paves the way, is impossible without a corre-
sponding progress in language, by which greater varieties
of objects are thinkable and expressible. On the one hand
it is impossible to carry classification far without names by
which to designate the classes ; and on the other hand it
is impossible to make language faster than things are classi-
fied.

Again, the multiplication of classes and the consequent
narrowing of each class, itself involves a greater likeness
among the things classed together ; and the consequent ap-
proach towards the notion of complete likeness itself allows
classification to be carried higher. Moreover, classification
necessarily advances pari passu with rationality — the clas-
sification of things with the classification of relations. For
things that belong to the same class are, by implication,
things of which the properties and modes of behaviour —
the co-existences and sequences — are more or less the same ;
and the recognition of this sameness of co-existences and
sequences is reasoning. Whence it follows that the advance
of classification is necessarily proportionate to the advance
of generalizations Yet further, the notion of likeness, both

158 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

in things and relations, simultaneously evolves by one pro-
cess of culture the ideas of equality of things and equality
of relations ; which are the respective bases of exact con-
crete reasoning and exact abstract reasoning — Mathematics
and Logic. And once more, this idea of equality, in the
very process of being formed, necessarily gives origin to
two series of relations — those of magnitude and those of
number : from which arise geometry and the calculus. Thus
the process throughout is one of perpetual subdivision and
perpetual intercommunication of the divisions. From the
very first there has been that consensus of different kinds of
knowledge, answering to the consensus of the intellectual
faculties, which, as already said, must exist among the sci-
ences.

Let us now go on to observe how, out of the notions of
equality and number, as arrived at in the manner described,
there gradually arose the elements of quantitative prevision.

Equality, once having come to be definitely conceived,
was readily applicable to other phenomena than those of
magnitude. Being predicable of all things producing indis-
tinguishable impressions, there naturally grew up ideas of
equality in weights, sounds, colours, &c. ; and indeed it can
scarcely be doubted that the occasional experience of equal
weights, sounds, and colours, had a share in developing the
abstract conception of equality — that the ideas of equality
in size, relations, forces, resistances, and sensible proper-
ties in general, were evolved during the same period.
But however this may be, it is clear that as fast as the no-
tion of equality gained definiteness, so fast did that lowest
kind of quantitative prevision which is achieved without
any instrumental aid, become possible.

The ability to estimate, however roughly, the amount
of a foreseen result, implies the conception that it will be
equal to a certain imagined quantity ; and the correctness
of the estimate will manifestly depend upon the accuracy at

QUANTITATIVE EVOLUTION OF KNOWLEDGE. 159

which the perceptions of sensible equality have arrived. A
savage with a piece of stone in his hand, and another piece
lying before him of greater bulk but of the same kind (a
fact which he infers from the equality of the two in colour
and texture) knows about what effort he must put forth to
raise this other piece ; and he judges accurately in propor-
tion to the accuracy with which he perceives that the one
is twice, three times, four times, &c. as large as the other ;
that is — in proportion to the precision of his ideas of equali-
ty and number. And here let us not omit to notice that
even in these vaguest of quantitative previsions, the concep-
tion of equality of relations is also involved. For it is only
in virtue of an undefined perception that the relation be-
tween bulk and weight in the one stone is equal to the re-
lation between bulk and weight in the other, that even the
roughest approximation can be made.

But how came the transition from those uncertain per-
ceptions of equality which the unaided senses give, to the
certain ones with which science deals ? It came by placing
the things compared in juxtaposition. Equality being pre-
dicated of things which give us indistinguishable impres-
sions, and no accurate comparison of impressions being
possible unless they occur in immediate succession, it re-
sults that exactness of equality is ascertainable in propor-
tion to the closeness of the compared things. Hence the
fact that when we wish to judge of two shades of colour
whether they are alike or not, we place them side by side ;
hence the fact that we cannot, with any precision, say which
of two allied sounds is the louder, or the higher in pitch,
unless we hear the one immediately after the other; hence
the fact that to estimate the ratio of weights, we take one
in each hand, that we may compare their pressures by rap-
idly alternating in thought from the one to the other ; hence
the fact, that in a piece of music, we can continue to make
equal beats when the first beat has been given, but cannot

160 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

ensure commencing with the same length of beat on a fu«
ture occasion ; and hence, lastly, the fact, that of all magni-
tudes, those of linear extension are those of which the
equality is most accurately ascertainable; and those to
which by consequence all others have to be reduced. For
it is the peculiarity of linear extension that it alone allows
its magnitudes to be placed in absolute juxtaposition, or,
rather, in coincident position ; it alone can test the equality
of two magnitudes by observing whether they will coalesce,
.as two equal mathematical lines do, when placed between
the same points ; it alone can test equality by trying wheth-
er it will become identity. Hence, then, the fact, that all
exact science is reducible, by an ultimate analysis, to results
measured in equal units of linear extension.

Still it remains to be noticed in what manner this deter-
mination of equality by comparison of linear magnitudes
originated. Once more may we perceive that surrounding
natural objects supplied the needful lessons. From the be-
ginning there must have been a constant experience of like
things placed side by side — men standing and walking to-
gether ; animals from the same herd ; fish from the same
shoal. And the ceaseless repetition of these experiences
could not fail to suggest the observation, that the nearer
together any objects were, the more visible became any in-
equality between them. Hence the obvious device of put-
ting in apposition, things of which it was desired to ascer-
tain the relative magnitudes. Hence the idea of measure.
Arid here we suddenly come upon a group of facts which
afford a solid basis to the remainder of our argument ; while
they also furnish strong evidence in support of the forego-
ing speculations. Those who look sceptically on this at-
tempted rehabilitation of the earliest epochs of mental de-
velopment, and who more especially think that the derivation
of so many primary notions from organic forms is somewhat
strained, will perhaps see more probability in the several

DEVELOPMENT OF THE IDEA OF MEASURE. 161

hypotheses that have been ventured, on discovering that all
measures of extension and force originated from the lengths
and weights of organic bodies ; and all measures of time
from the periodic phenomena of either organic or inorganic
bodies.

Thus, among linear measures, the cubit of the Hebrews
was the length of the forearm from the elbow to the end
of the middle finger ; and the smaller scriptural dimensions
are expressed in hand-breadths and spans. The Egyptian
cubit, which was similarly derived, was divided into digits,
which were finger-breadths / and each finger-breadth was
more definitely expressed as being equal to four grains of
barley placed breadthwise. Other ancient measures were
the orgyia or stretch of the arms, the pace, and the palm.
So persistent has been the use of these natural units of
length in the East, that even now some of the Arabs mete
out cloth by the forearm. So, too, is it with European
measures. The foot prevails as a dimension throughout
Europe, and has done since the time of the Romans, by
whom, also, it was used : its lengths in different places va-
rying not much more than men's feet vary. The heights
of horses are still expressed in hands. The inch is the
length of the terminal joint of the thumb/ as is clearly
shown in France, where pouce means both thumb and inch.
Then we have the inch divided into three barley-corns.

So completely, indeed, have these organic dimensions
served as the substrata of all mensuration, that it is only
by means of them that we can form any estimate of some
of the ancient distances. For example, the length of a
degree on the Earth's surface, as determined by the Ara-
bian astronomers shortly after the death of Haroun-al-Ras-
chid, was fifty-six of their miles. We know nothing of
their mile further than that it was 4000 cubits ; and whether
these were sacred cubits or common cubits, would remain
loubtful, but that the length of the cubit is given as twen*

162 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

ty-seven inches, and each inch defined as the thickness of
six barley- grains. Thus one of the earliest measurements
of a degree comes down to us in barley-grains. Not only
did organic lengths furnish those approximate measures
which satisfied men's needs in ruder ages, but they fur-
nished also the standard measures required in later
times. One instance occurs in our own history. To
remedy the irregularities then prevailing, Henry I. com-
manded that the ulna, or ancient ell, which answers to
the modern yard, should be made of the exact length of
his own arm.

Measures of weight again had a like derivation. Seeds
seem commonly to have supplied the unit. The original
of the carat used for weighing in India is a small bean.
Our own systems, both troy and avoirdupois, are derived
primarily from wheat- corns. Our smallest weight, the
grain, is a grain of wheat. This is not a speculation ; it is
an historically registered fact. Henry III. enacted that an
ounce should be the weight of 640 dry grains of wheat
from the middle of the ear. And as all the other weights
are multiples or sub-multiples of this, it follows that the
grain of wheat is the basis of our scale. So natural is it to
use organic bodies as weights, before artificial weights
have been established, or where they are not to be had,
that in some of the remoter parts of Ireland the people
are said to be in the habit, even now, of putting a man
into the scales to serve as a measure for heavy com«
modities.

Similarly with time. Astronomical periodicity, and the
periodicity of animal and vegetable life, are simultaneously
used in the first stages of progress for estimating epochs.
The simplest unit of time, the day, nature supplies ready
made. The next simplest period, the mooneth or month,
is also thrust upon men's notice by the conspicuous changes
constituting a lunation. For larger divisions than these^

PRIMITIVE MEASUREMENTS OF TIME. 163

the phenomena of the seasons, and the chief events from
time to time occurring, have been used by early and un-
civilized races. Among the Egyptians the rising of the
Nile served as a mark. The New Zealanders were found
to begin their year from the reappearance of the Pleiades
above the sea. One of the uses ascribed to birds, by the
Greeks, was to indicate the seasons by their migrations.
Barrow describes the aboriginal Hottentot as denoting
periods by the number of moons before or after the ripen-
ing of one of his chief articles of food. He further states
that the Kaffir chronology is kept by the moon, and is
registered by notches on sticks — the death of a favourite
chief, or the gaining of a victory, serving for a new era.
By which last fact, we are at once reminded that in early
history, events are commonly recorded as occurring in cer-
tain reigns, and in certain years of certain reigns : a proceed-
ing which practically made a king's reign a measure of
duration.

And, as further illustrating the tendency to divide time
by natural phenomena and natural events, it may be no-
ticed that even by our own peasantry the definite divisions
of months and years are but little used ; and that they
habitually refer to occurrences as " before sheep-shearing,"
or " after harvest," or " about the time when the squire
died." It is manifest, therefore, that the more or less
equal periods perceived in Nature gave the first units of
measure for time ; as did Nature's more or less equal
lengths and weights give the first units of measure for space
and force.

It remains only to observe, as further illustrating the
evolution of quantitative ideas after this manner, that
measures of value were similarly derived. Barter, in one
form or other, is found among all but the very lowest hu-
man races. It is obviously based upon the notion of
equality of worth. And as it gradually merges into trade

164: THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

by the introduction of some kind of currency, we find
that the measures of worth, constituting this currency,
are organic bodies ; in some cases cowries, in others
cocoa-nuts, in others cattle, in others pigs y among the
American Indians peltry or sJcins, and in Iceland dried
fish. ,

Notions of exact equality and of measure having been
reached, there came to be definite ideas of relative magni-
tudes as being multiples one of another ; whence the prac-
tice of measurement by direct apposition of a measure.
The determination of linear extensions by this process can
scarcely be called science, though it is a step towards it ;
but the determination of lengths of time by an analogous
process may be considered as one of the earliest samples of
quantitative prevision. For when it is first ascertained
that the moon completes the cycle of her changes in about
thirty days — a fact known to most uncivilized tribes that
can count beyond the number of their fingers — it is mani-
fest that it becomes possible to say in what number of days
any specified phase of the moon will recur ; and it is also
manifest that this prevision is effected by an opposition of
two times, after the same manner that linear space is meas-
ured by the opposition of two lines. For to express the
moon's period in days, is to say how many of these units
of measure are contained in the period to be measured — is
to ascertain the distance between two points in time by
means of a scale of days, just as we ascertain the distance
between two points in space by a scale of feet or inches :
and in each case the scale coincides with the thing meas-
ured— mentally in the one ; visibly in the other. So that
in this simplest, and perhaps earliest case of quantitative
prevision, the phenomena are not only thrust daily upon
men's notice, but Nature is, as it were, perpetually repeat- j
ing that process of measurement by observing which
the prevision is effected. And thus there may be signi-

PRIMITIVE MEASUREMENTS OF TEVIE. 105

ficance in the remark which some have made, that alike
in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, there is an affinity be-
tween the word meaning moon, and that meaning measure.

This fact, that in very early stages of social progress it
is known that the moon goes through her changes in about
thirty days, and that in about twelve moons the seasons
return — this fact that chronological astronomy assumes a
certain scientific character even before geometry does ;
while it is partly due to the circumstance that the astro-
nomical divisions, day, month, and year, are ready made
for us, is partly due to the further circumstances that
agricultural and other operations were at first regulated
astronomically, and that from the supposed divine nature
of the heavenly bodies their motions determined the
periodical religious festivals. As instances of the one we
have the observation of the Egyptians, that the rising of
the Nile corresponded with the heliacal rising of Sirius ;
the directions given by Hesiod for reaping and ploughing,
according to the positions of the Pleiades ; and his maxim
that " fifty days after the turning of the sun is a seasonable
time for beginning a voyage." As instances of the other,
we have the naming of the days after the sun, moon, and
planets ; the early attempts among Eastern nations to
regulate the calendar so that the gods might not be offend-
ed by the displacement of their sacrifices ; and the fix-
ing of the great annual festival of the Peruvians by the
position of the sun. In all which facts we see that,
at first, science was simply an appliance of religion and
industry.

After the discoveries that a lunation occupies nearly
thirty days, and that some twelve lunations occupy a year
— discoveries of which there is no historical account, but
which may be inferred as the earliest, from the fact that
existing uncivilized races have made them — we come to
the first known astronomical records, which are those of

16Q - THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

eclipses. The Chaldeans were able to predict these.
" This they did, probably," says Dr. Whewcll in his useful
history, from which most of the materials we are about to
use will be drawn, " by means of their cycle of 223 months,
or about eighteen years ; for at the end of this time, the
eclipses of the moon begin to return, at the same intervals
and in the same order as at the beginning." Now this meth-
od of calculating eclipses by means of a recurring cycle, —
the Saros as they called it — is a more complex case of pre-
vision by means of coincidence of measures. For by what
observations must the Chaldeans have discovered this
cycle ? Obviously, as Delambre infers, by inspecting their
registers ; by comparing the successive intervals ; by find-
ing that some of the intervals were alike ; by seeing that
these equal intervals were eighteen years apart ; by discov-
ering that all the intervals that were eighteen years apart
were equal ; by ascertaining that the intervals formed a
series which repeated itself, so that if one of the cycles of
intervals were superposed on another the divisions would
fit. This once perceived, and it manifestly became possi-
ble to use the cycle as a scale of time by which to measure
out future periods. Seeing thus that the process of so pre-
dicting eclipses, is in essence the same as that of predicting
the moon's monthly changes by observing the number of
days after which they repeat — seeing that the two differ
only in the extent and irregularity of the intervals, it is not
difficult to understand how such an amount of knowledge
should so early have been reached. And we shall be less
surprised, on remembering that the only things involved
in these previsions were time and number ; and that the
time was in a manner self-numbered.

Still, the ability to predict events recurring only after
so long a period as eighteen years, implies a considerable
advance in civilization — a considerable development of gen-
eral knowledge ; and we have now to inquire what progress

KNOWLEDGE IMPLIED BY EARLY ASTRONOMY. 167

in other sciences accompanied, and was necessary to, these
astronomical previsions. In the first place, there must
clearly have been a tolerably efficient system of calculation.
Mere finger-counting, mere head-reckoning, even with the
aid of a regular decimal notation, could not have sufficed
for numbering the days in a year ; much less the years,
months, and days between eclipses. Consequently there
must have been a mode of registering numbers ; probably
even a system of numerals. The earliest numerical rec-
ords, if we may judge by the practices of the less civilized
races now existing, were probably kept by notches cut on
sticks, or strokes marked on walls ; much as public-house
scores are kept now. And there seems reason to believe
that the first numerals used were simply groups of straight
strokes, as some of the still-extant Roman ones are ; lead-
ing us to suspect that these groups of strokes were used to
represent groups of fingers, as the groups of fingers had
been used to represent groups of objects — a supposition
quite in conformity with the aboriginal system of picture
writing and its subsequent modifications. Be this so or
not, however, it is manifest that before the Chaldeans dis-
covered their tSaros, there must have been both a set of
written symbols serving for an extensive numeration, and
a familiarity with the simpler rules of arithmetic.

Not only must abstract mathematics have made some
progress, but concrete mathematics also. It is scarcely
possible that the buildings belonging to this era should
have been laid out and erected without any knowledge of
geometry. At any rate, there must have existed that ele
mentary geometry which deals with direct measurement —
with the apposition of lines ; and it seems that only after
the discovery of those simple proceedings, by which right
angles are drawn, and relative positions fixed, could so reg-
ular an architecture be executed. In the case of the other

division of concrete mathematics — mechanics, we have defi-
9

168 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

nite evidence of progress. We know that the lever and
the inclined plane were employed during this period : im-
plying that there was a qualitative prevision of their effects,
though not a quantitative one. But we know more. We
read of weights in the earliest records ; and we find weights
in ruins of the highest antiquity. Weights imply scales,
of which we have also mention ; and scales involve the
primary theorem of mechanics in its least, complicated form
— involve not a qualitative but a quantitative prevision of
mechanical effects. And here we may notice how mechan-
ics, in common with the other exact sciences, took its rise
from the simplest application of the idea of equality. For
the mechanical proposition which the scales involve, is, that
if a lever with equal arms, have equal weights suspended
from them, the weights will remain at equal altitudes.
And we may further notice, how, in this first step of ra-
tional mechanics, we see illustrated that truth awhile since
referred to, that as magnitudes of linear extension are the
only ones of which the equality is exactly ascertainable, the
equalities of other magnitudes have at the outset to be de-
termined by means of them. For the equality of the
weights which balance each other in scales, wholly depends
upon the equality of the arms : we can know that the
weights are equal only by proving that the arms are equal.
And when by this means we have obtained a system of
weights, — a set of equal units of force, then does a science
of mechanics become possible. Whence, indeed, it follows,
that rational mechanics could not possibly have any other
starting-point than the scales.

Let us further remember, that during this same period
there was a limited knowledge of chemistry. The many
arts which we know to have been carried on must have
been impossible without a generalized experience of the
modes in which certain bodies affect each other under spe-
cial conditions. In metallurgy, which was extensively

THE IMPLICATIONS OF EARLY ASTRONOMY. 169

practised, this is abundantly illustrated. And we even
have evidence that in some cases the knowledge possessed
was, in a sense, quantitative. For, as we find by analysis
that the hard alloy of which the Egyptians made their cut-
ting tools, was composed of copper and tin in fixed pro-
portions, there must have been an established prevision that
such an alloy was to be obtained only by mixing them in
these proportions. It is true, this was but a simple empiri-
cal generalization ; but so was the generalization respecting
the recurrence of eclipses ; so are the first generalizations
of every science.

Respecting the simultaneous advance of the sciences
during this early epoch, it only remains to remark that
even the most complex of them must have made some
progress — perhaps even a greater relative progress than
any of the rest. For under what conditions only were the
foregoing developments possible ? There first required an
established and organized social system. A long continued
registry of eclipses ; the building of palaces ; the use of
scales ; the practice of metallurgy — alike imply a fixed and
populous nation. The existence of such a nation not only
presupposes laws, and some administration of justice, which
we know existed, but it presupposes successful laws — laws
conforming in some degree to the conditions of social sta-
bility— laws enacted because it was seen that the actions
forbidden by them were dangerous to the State. We do
not by any means say that all, or even the greater part, of
the laws were of this nature ; but we do say, that the fun-
damental ones were. It cannot be denied that the laws
affecting life and property were such. It cannot be denied
that, however little these were enforced between class and
class, they were to a considerable extent enforced between
members of the same class. It can scarcely be questioned,
that the administration of them between members of the
same class was seen by rulers to be necessary for keeping

170 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

their subjects together. And knowing, as we do, that,
other things equal, nations prosper in proportion to the
justness of their arrangements, we may fairly infer that
the very cause of the advance of these earliest nations out
of aboriginal barbarism, was the greater recognition among
them of the claims to life and property.

But supposition aside, it is clear that the habitual recog-
nition of these claims in their laws, implied some prevision
of social phenomena. Even thus early there was a certain
amount of social science, Nay, it may even be shown that
there was a vague recognition of that fundamental princi-
ple on which all the true social science is based — the equal
rights of all to the free exercise of their faculties. That
same idea of equality, which, as we have seen, underlies
all other science, underlies also morals and sociology. The
conception of justice, which is the primary one in morals ;
and the administration of justice, which is the vital condi-
tion of social existence ; are impossible, without the recog-
nition of a certain likeness in men's claims, in virtue of their
common humanity. Equity literally means equalness ; and
if it be admitted that there were even the vaguest ideas of
equity in these primitive eras, it must be admitted that
there was some appreciation of the equalness of men's lib-
erties to pursue the objects of life — some appreciation,
therefore, of the essential principle of national equilibrium.

Thus in this initial stage of the positive sciences, before
geometry had yet done more than evolve a few empirical
rules — before mechanics had passed beyond its first theo-
rem— before astronomy had advanced from its merely chro-
nological phase into the geometrical ; the most involved of
the sciences had reached a certain degree of development
— a development without which no progress in other sci-
ences was possible.

Only noting as we pass, how, thus early, we may see
that the progress of exact science was not only towards an

ORIGIN OF GEOMETRICAL ASTRONOMY. 171

increasing number of previsions, but towards previsions
more accurately quantitative — how, in astronomy, the re-
curring period of the moon's motions was by and by more
correctly ascertained to be nineteen years, or two hundred
and thirty-five lunations ; how Callipus further corrected
this Metonic cycle, by leaving out a day at the end of every
seventy-six years ; and how these successive advances im
plied a longer continued registry of observations, and the
co-ordination of a greater number of facts — let us go on to
inquire how geometrical astronomy took its rise.

The first astronomical instrument was the gnomon
This was not only early in use in the East, but it was found
also among the Mexicans ; the sole astronomical observa-
tions of the Peruvians were made by it ; and we read that
1100 B.C., the Chinese found that, at a certain place, the
length of the sun's shadow, at the summer solstice, was to
the height of the gnomon, as one and a half to eight.
Here again it is observable, not only that the instrument is
found ready made, but that Nature is perpetually perform-
ing the process of measurement. Any fixed, erect object
— a column, a dead palm, a pole, the angle of a building —
serves for a gnomon ; and it needs but to notice the chang-
ing position of the shadow it daily throws, to make the
first step in geometrical astronomy. How small this first
step was, may be seen in the fact that the only things as-
certained at the outset were the periods of the summer
and winter solstices, which corresponded with the least and
greatest lengths of the mid-day shadow ; and to fix which,
it was needful merely to mark the point to which each
day's shadow reached.

And now let it not be overlooked that in the observing
at what time during the next year this extreme limit of the
shadow was again reached, and in the inference that tho
sun had then arrived at the same turning point in his an-
nual course, we have one of the simplest instances of that

172 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

combined use of equal magnitudes and equal relations, by
which all exact science, all quantitative prevision, is reached,
For the relation observed was between the length of the
sun's shadow and his position in the heavens ; and the in-
ference drawn was that when, next year, the extremity of
his shadow came to the same point, he occupied the same
place. That is, the ideas involved were, the equality of the
shadows, and the equality of the relations between shadow
and sun in successive years. As in the case of the scales,
the equality of relations here recognized is of the simplest
order. It is not as those habitually dealt with in the higher
kinds of scientific reasoning, which answer to the general
type — the relation between two and three equals the rela-
tion between six and nine ; but it follows the type — the re-
lation between two and three, equals the relation between
two and three ; it is a case of not simply equal relations,
but coinciding relations. And here, indeed, we may see
beautifully illustrated how the idea of equal relations takes
its rise after the same manner that that of equal magnitude
does. As already shown, the idea of equal magnitudes
arose from the observed coincidence of two lengths placed
together ; and in this case we have not only two coincident
lengths of shadows, but two coincident relations between
sun and shadows.

From the use of the gnomon there naturally grew up
the conception of angular measurements ; and with the
advance of geometrical conceptions there came the hemi-
sphere of Berosus, the equinoctial armil, the solstitial armil,
and the quadrant of Ptolemy — all of them employing shad-
ows as indices of the sun's position, but in combination
with angular divisions. It is obviously out of the question
for us here to trace these details of progress. It must suf-
fice to remark that in all of them we may see that notion
of equality of relations of a more complex kind, which is
best illustrated in the astrolabe, an instrument which con*

PROGRESS OF GEOMETRICAL ASTRONOMY. 173

listed " of circular rims, moveable one within the other, or
about poles, and contained circles which were to be brought
into the position of the ecliptic, and of a plane passing
through the sun and the poles of the ecliptic" — an instru-
ment, therefore, which represented, as by a model, the rel-
ative positions of certain imaginary lines and planes in thfi
heavens ; which was adjusted by putting these representa-
tive lines and planes into parallelism and coincidence with
the celestial ones ; and which depended for its use upon the
perception that the relations between these representative
lines and planes were equal to the relations between those
represented.

"Were there space, we might go on to point out how the
conception of the heavens as a revolving hollow sphere,
the discovery of the globular form of the earth, the expla-
nation of the moon's phases, and indeed all the successive
steps taken, involved this same mental process. But we
must content ourselves with referring to the theory of -ec-
centrics and epicycles, as a further marked illustration of
it. As first suggested, and as proved by Hipparchus to af-
ford an explanation of the leading irregularities in the ce-
lestial motions, this theory involved the perception that
the progressions, retrogressions, and variations of velocity
seen in the heavenly bodies, might be reconciled with their
assumed uniform movement in circles, by supposing that
the earth was not in the centre of their orbits ; or by sup-
posing that they revolved in circles whose centres revolved
round the earth ; or by both. The discovery that this
would account for the appearances, was the discovery that
in certain geometrical diagrams the relations were such,
that the uniform motion of a point would, when looked at
from a particular position, present analogous irregularities ;
and the calculations of Hipparchus involved the belief that the
relations subsisting among these geometrical curves were
equal to the relations subsisting among the celestial orbits.

174 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

Leaving here these details of astronomical progress, and
the philosophy of it, let us observe how the relatively con-
crete science of geometrical astronomy, having been thus
far helped forward by the development of geometry in gen-
eral, reacted upon geometry, caused it also to advance, and
was again assisted by it. Hipparchus, before making his
solar and lunar tables, had to discover rules for calculating
the relations between the sides and angles of triangles —
trigonometry a subdivision of pure mathematics. Further,
the reduction of the doctrine of the sphere to the quanti-
tative form needed for astronomical purposes, required the
formation of a spherical trigonometry, which was also
achieved by Hipparchus. Thus both plane and spherical
trigonometry, which are parts of the highly abstract and
simple science of extension, remained undeveloped until
the less abstract and more complex science of the celestial
motions had need of them. The fact admitted by M.
Comte, that since Descartes the progress of the abstract
division of mathematics has been determined by that of
the concrete division, is paralleled by the still more signifi-
cant fact that even thus early the progress of mathematics
was determined by that of astronomy.

And here, indeed, we may see exemplified the truth,
tvhich the subsequent history of science frequently illus-
trates, that before any more abstract division makes a fur-
ther advance, some more concrete division must suggest
the necessity for that advance — must present the new order
of questions to be solved. Before astronomy presented
Hipparchus with the problem of solar tables, there was
nothing to raise the question of the relations between lines
and angles ; the subject-matter of trigonometry had not
been conceived. And as there must be subject-matter be-
fore there can be investigation, it follows that the progress
of the concrete divisions is as necessary to that of the ab-
stract, as the progress of the abstract to that of the concrete.

EVOLUTION OF ALGEBRA AND MECHANICS. 175

Just incidentally noticing the circumstance that the
epoch we are describing witnessed the evolution of algebra,
a comparatively abstract division of mathematics, by the
union of its less abstract divisions, geometry and arithme-
tic— a fact proved by the earliest extant samples of alge-
bra, which are half algebraic, half geometric — we go on to
observe that during the era in which mathematics and
astronomy were thus advancing, rational mechanics made
its second step ; and something was done towards giving a
quantitative form to hydrostatics, optics, and harmonics.
In each case we shall see as before, how the idea of equal-
ity underlies all quantitative prevision ; and in what simple
forms this idea is first applied.

As already shown, the first theorem established in me-
chanics was, that equal weights suspended from a lever with
equal arms would remain in equilibrium. Archimedes dis-
covered that a lever with unequal arms was in equilibrium
when one weight was to its arm as the other arm to its
weight ; that is — when the numerical relation between one
weight and its arm was equal to the numerical relation be-
tween the other arm and its weight.

The first advance made in hydrostatics, which we also
owe to Archimedes, was the discovery that fluids press
equally in all directions ; and from this followed the solu-
tion of the problem of floating bodies : namely, that they
are in equilibrium when the upward and downward pres-
sures are equal.

In optics, again, the Greeks found that the angle of in-
cidence is equal to the angle of reflection ; and their knowl-
edge reached no further than to such simple deductions
from this as their geometry sufficed for. In harmonics
they ascertained the fact that three strings of equal lengths
would yield the octave, fifth and fourth, when strained by
weights having certain definite ratios ; and they did not
progress much beyond this. In the one of which cases we

176 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

see geometry used in elucidation of the laws of light ; and
in the other, geometry and arithmetic made to measure the
phenomena of sound.

Did space permit, it would be desirable here to de-
scribe the state of the less advanced sciences — to point out
how, while a few had thus reached the first stages of quan-
titative prevision, the rest were progressing in qualitative
prevision — how some small generalizations were made re-
specting evaporation, and heat, and electricity, and mag-
netism, which, empirical as they were, did not in that re-
spect differ from the first generalizations of every science —
how the Greek physicians had made advances in physiology
and pathology, which, considering the great imperfection
of our present knowledge, are by no means to be despised
— how zoology had been so far systematized by Aristotle,
as, to some extent, enabled him from the presence of cer-
tain organs to predict the presence of others — how in Aris-
totle's Politics^ there is some progress towards a scientific
conception of social phenomena, and sundry previsions re-
specting them — and how in the state of the Greek socie-
ties, as well as in the writings of Greek philosophers, we
may recognise not only an increasing clearness in that con-
ception of equity on which the social science is based, but
also some appreciation of the fact that social stability de-
pends upon the maintenance of equitable regulations. We
might dwell at length upon the causes which retarded the
development of some of the sciences, as for example, chemis-
try ; showing that relative complexity had nothing to do
with it — that the oxidation of a piece of iron is a simpler
phenomenon than the recurrence of eclipses, and the dis-
covery of carbonic acid less difficult than that of the pre-
cession of the equinoxes — but that the relatively slow ad-
vance of chemical knowledge was due, partly to the fact
that its phenomena were not daily thrust on men's notice
as those of astronomy were ; partly to the fact that Nature

WHY CHEMISTRY DEVELOPED SO SLOWLY. 177

does not habitually supply the means, and suggest the
modes of investigation, as in the sciences dealing with time
extension, and force ; and partly to the fact that the great
majority of the materials with which chemistry deals, in
stead of being ready to hand, are made known only by th*
arts in their slow growth ; and partly to the fact that even
when known, their chemical properties are not self-exhibit
ed, but have to be sought out by experiment.

Merely indicating all these considerations, however, let
us go on to contemplate the progress and mutual influence
of the sciences in modern days ; only parenthetically no-
ticing how, on the revival of the scientific spirit, the suc-
cessive stages achieved exhibit the dominance of the same
law hitherto traced — how the primary idea in dynamics, a
uniform force, was defined by Galileo to be a force which
generates equal velocities in equal successive times — how
the uniform action of gravity was first experimentally de-
termined by showing that the time elapsing before a body
thrown up, stopped, was equal to the time it took to fall —
how the first fact in compound motion which Galileo ascer-
tained was, that a body projected horizontally will have a
uniform motion onwards and a uniformly accelerated mo-
tion downwards ; that is, will describe equal horizontal
spaces in equal times, compounded with equal vertical in-
crements in equal times — how his discovery respecting the
pendulum was, that its oscillations occupy equal intervals
of time whatever their length — how the principle of virtual
velocities which he established is, that in any machine the
weights that balance each other, are reciprocally as their
virtual velocities ; that is, the relation of one set of weights
to their velocities equals the relation of the other set of
velocities to their weights ; — and how thus his achieve-
ments consisted in showing the equalities of certain magni-
tudes and relations, whose equalities had not been pre*
viously recognised.

178 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

When mechanici bad reached the point to which Galileo
brought it — when the simple laws of force had been dis-
entangled from the friction and atmospheric resistance by
which all their earthly manifestations are disguised — when
progressing knowledge of physics had given a due insight
into these disturbing causes — when, by an effort of abstrac-
tion, it was perceived that all motion would be uniform
and rectilinear unless interfered with by external forces —
and when the various consequences of this perception bad
been worked out ; then it became possible, by the union of
geometry and mechanics, to initiate physical astronomy.
Geometry and mechanics having diverged from a common

root in men's sensible experiences; having, with oceasional
inosculations, been separately developed, the one partly in
connexion with astronomy, the other solely by analyzing
terrestrial movements ; now join in the investigations of
Newton to create a true theory of the celestial motions.
And here, also, we have to notice the important fact that,
in the veiy proeess of being brought jointly to bear upon
astronomical problems, they are themselves raised to a

higher phase of development. For it was in dealing with

the questions raised by celestial dynamics that the then
incipient infinitesimal calculus was unfolded by Newton and
his continental successors ; and it was from inquiries into
the mechanics of the solar system that the general theorems
of mechanics contained in the " JVincipia," — many of them
of purely terrestrial application — took their rise. Thus, as
in the case of Hipparehus, the presentation of a new order
of concrete facts to be analyzed, led to the discovery of
new abstract facts; and these abstract facts having been
/aid hold ofj gave means of access to endless groups

of concrete facts before incapable of quantitative treat-
ment.

Mean while, pbySlCS had been carrymg further that pro-
gress without which, as just shown, rational mechanics

PKOGKESS OF PHYSICS. 179

could not be disentangled. In hydrostatics, Stevinus had
extended and applied the discovery of Archimedes. Tor
ricelli had proved atmospheric pressure, " by showing that
this pressure sustained different liquids at heights inversely
proportional to their densities ; " and Pascal " established
the necessary diminution of this pressure at increasing
heights in the atmosphere : " discoveries which in part
reduced this branch of science to a quantitative form.
Something had been done by Daniel Bernouilli towards
the dynamics of fluids. The thermometer had been invent-
ed ; and a number of small generalizations reached by it.
Huyghens and Newton had made considerable progress in
optics ; Newton had approximately calculated the rate of
transmission of sound ; and the continental mathematicians
had succeeded in determining some of the laws of sonorous
vibrations. Magnetism and electricity had been consid-
erably advanced by Gilbert. Chemistry had got as far as
the mutual neutralization of acids and alkalies. And
Leonardo da Vinci had advanced in geology to the con-
ception of the deposition of marine strata as the origin
of fossils. Our present purpose does not require that
we should give particulars. All that it here concerns us
to do is to illustrate the consensus subsisting in this stage
of growth, and afterwards. Let as look at a few cases.

The theoretic law of the velocity of sound enunciated
by Newton on purely mechanical considerations, was found
wrong by one-sixth. The error remained unaccounted for
until the time of Laplace, who, suspeoting that the heat
disengaged by the compression of the undulating strata of
the air, gave additional elasticity, and so produced the
difference, made the needful calculations and found he was
right. Thus acoustics was arrested until thermology over-
took and aided it. When Boyle and Harriot had discov-
ered the relation between the density of gases and the
pressures they are subject to ; and when it thus became

1. 80 THE GENESIS OP SCIENCE.

possible to calculate the rate of decreasing density in the
upper parts of the atmosphere ; it also became possible to
make approximate tables of the atmospheric refraction of
light. Thus optics, and with it astronomy, advanced with
barology. After the discovery of atmospheric pressure
had led to the invention of the air-pump by Otto Guericke;
and after it had become known that evaporation increases
in rapidity as atmospheric pressure decreases ; it became
possible for Leslie, by evaporation in a vacuum, to produce
the greatest cold known ; and so to extend our knowledge
of thermology by showing that there is no zero within
reach of our researches. When Fourier had determined
the laws of conduction of heat, and when the Earth's tem-
perature had been found to increase below the surface
one degree in every forty yards, there were data for in-
ferring the past condition of our globe ; the vast period
it has taken to cool down to its present state; and the
immense age of the solar system — a purely astronomical
consideration.

Chemistry having advanced sufficiently to supply the
needful materials, and a physiological experiment having
furnished the requisite hint, there came the discovery of
galvanic electricity. Galvanism reacting on chemistry dis-
closed the metallic bases of the alkalies, and inaugurated
the electro-chemical theory ; in the hands of Oersted and
Ampere it led to the laws of magnetic action ; and by its
aid Faraday has detected significant facts relative to the
constitution of light. Brewster's discoveries respecting
double refraction and dipolarization proved the essential
truth of the classification of crystalline forms according to
the number of axes, by showing that the molecular con-
stitution depends upon the axes. In these and in numer-
ous other cases, the mutual influence of the sciences has
been quite independent of any supposed hierarchical order.
Often, too, their inter-actions are more complex than as

ADVANCE OF ELECTRICAL THEORY. 181

thus instanced — involve more sciences than two. One
illustration of this must suffice. We quote it in full from
the History of the Inductive Sciences. In Book XL, chap.
II., on "The Progress of the Electrical Theory," Dr
Whewell writes : —

" Thus at that period, mathematics was behind experiment,
and a problem was proposed, in which theoretical results were
wanted for comparison with observation, but could not be ac-
curately obtained ; as was the case in astronomy also, till the time
of the approximate solution of the problem of three bodies, and
the consequent formation of the tables of the moon and planets,
on the theory of universal gravitation. After some time, elec-
trical theory was relieved from this reproach, mainly in conse-
quence of the progress which astronomy had occasioned in pure
mathematics. About 1801 there appeared in the Bulletin des
Sciences, an exact solution of the problem of the distribution of
electric fluid on a spheroid, obtained by Biot, by the application
of the peculiar methods which Laplace had invented for the prob-
lem of the figure of the planets. And, in 1811, M. Poisson applied
Laplace's artifices to the case of two spheres acting upon one
another in contact, a case to which many of Coulomb's experi-
ments were referrible ; and the agreement of the results of
theory and observation, thus extricated from Coulomb's num-
bers obtained above forty years previously, was very striking and
convincing.

Not only do the sciences affect each other after this
direct manner, but they affect each other indirectly.
Where there is no dependence, there is yet analogy —
equality of relations y and the discovery of the relations
subsisting among one set of phenomena, constantly sug-
gests a search for the same relations among another set.
Thus the established fact that the force of gravitation varies
inversely as the square of the distance, being recognized as
a necessary characteristic of all influences proceeding from
a centre, raised the suspicion that heat and light follow the
same law ; which proved to be the case — a suspicion and a

182 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

confirmation which were repeated in respect to the electric
and magnetic forces. Thus again the discovery of the
polarization of light led to experiments which ended in the
discovery of the polarization of heat — a discovery that
could never have been made without the antecedent
one. Thus, too, the known refrangibility of light and
heat lately produced the inquiry whether sound also is not
refrangible ; which on trial it turns out to be.

In some cases, indeed, it is only by the aid of concep-
tions derived from one class of phenomena that hypoth-
eses respecting other classes can be formed. The theory,
at one time favoured, that evaporation is a solution of
water in air, was an assumption that the relation between
water and air is like the relation between salt and water ;
and. could never have been conceived if the relation be-
tween salt and water had not been previously known.
Similarly the received theory of evaporation — that it is a
diffusion of the particles of the evaporating fluid in virtue
of their atomic repulsion — could not have been entertained
without a foregoing experience of magnetic and electric
repulsions. So complete in recent days has become this
consensus among the sciences, caused either by the natural
entanglement of their phenomena, or by analogies in the
relations of their phenomena, that scarcely any consider-
able discovery concerning one order of facts now takes
place, without very shortly leading to discoveries concern-
ing other orders.

To produce a tolerably complete conception of this pro-
cess of scientific evolution, it would be needful to go back
to the beginning, and trace in detail the growth of classifi-
cations and nomenclatures ; and to show how, as subsidiary
to science, they have acted upon it, and it has reacted upon
them. We can only now remark that, on the one hand,
classifications and nomenclatures have aided science by con-
tinually subdividing the subject-matter of research, and giv-

PROGRESS OF SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION. 183

mg fixity and diffusion to the truths disclosed ; and that on
the other hand, they have caught from it that increasing
quantitativeness, and that progress from considerations
touching single phenomena to considerations touching the
relations among many phenomena, which we have been de
scribing.

Of this last influence a few illustrations must be given.
In chemistry it is seen in the facts, that the dividing of mat-
ter into the four elements was ostensibly based npon the
single property of weight ; that the first truly chemical di-
vision into acid and alkaline bodies, grouped together bod-
ies which had not simply one property in common, but in
which one property was constantly related to many others ;
and that the classification now current, places together in
groups supporters of combustion, metallic and non-metallic
bases, acids, salts, &c, bodies which are often quite nnlike
in sensible qualities, but which are like in the majority of
their relations to other bodies. In mineralogy again,
the first classifications were based upon differences in as-
pect, texture, and other physical attributes. Berzelius
made two attempts at a classification based solely on chem-
ical constitution. That now current, recognises as far as
possible the relations between physical and chemical char-
acters. In botany the earliest classes formed were trees,
shrubs, and herbs : magnitude being the basis of distinction.
Dioscorides divided vegetables into aromatic, alimentary,
medicinal, and vinous : a division of chemical character.
Caesalpinus classified them by the seeds, and seed-vessels,
which he preferred because of tne relations found to sub-
sist between the character of the fructification and the
general character of the other parts.

While the "natural system" since developed, carrying out
the doctrine of Linnaeus, that " natural orders must be formed
by attention not to one or two, but to all the parts of plants,"
bases its divisions on like peculiarities which are found

L84 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

to be constantly related to the greatest number of other
like peculiarities. And similarly in zoology, the successive
classifications, from having been originally determined by
external and often subordinate characters not indicative of
the essential nature, have been gradually more and more
determined by those internal and fundamental differences,
which have uniform relations to the greatest number of other
differences. Nor shall we be surprised at this analogy between
the modes of progress of positive science and classification,
when we bear in mind that both proceed by making gener-
alizations ; that both enable us to make previsions differing
only in their precision ; and that while the one deals with
equal properties and relations, the other deals with proper-
ties and relations that approximate towards equality in var-
iable degrees.

Without further argument, it will, we think, be sufii-
ciently clear that the sciences are none of them separately
evolved — are none of them independent either logically or
historically ; but that all of them have, in a greater or less
degree, required aid and reciprocated it. Indeed, it needs
but to throw aside theses, and contemplate the mixed char-
acter of surrounding phenomena, to at once see that these
notions of division and succession in the kinds of knowledge
are none of them actually true, but are simple scientific
fictions - good, if regarded merely as aids to study ; bad,
if regarded as representing realities in Nature. Consider
them critically, and no facts whatever are presented to our
senses uncombined with other facts — no facts whatever but
are in some degree disguised by accompanying facts :
disguised in such a manner that all must be partially under-
stood before any one can be understood. If it be said, as
by M. Comte, that gravitating force should be treated of
before other forces, seeing that all things are subject to it,
it may on like grounds be said that heat should be first
dealt with ; seeing that thermal forces are everywhere iu

ITS DIVISIONS MUST ADVANCE TOGETHER. 185

action ; that the ability of any portion of matter to mani
fest visible gravitative phenomena depends on its state of
aggregation, which is determined by heat ; that only by
the aid of thermology can we explain those apparent ex-
ceptions to the gravitating tendency which are presented
by steam and smoke, and so establish its universality, and
that, indeed, the very existence of the solar system in a sol-
id form is just as much a question of heat as it is one of
gravitation.

Take other cases : — All phenomena recognised by the
eyes, through which only are the data of exact science as-
certainable, are complicated with optical phenomena ; and
cannot be exhaustively known until optical principles are
known. The burning of a candle cannot be explained
without involving chemistry, mechanics, thermology.
Every wind that blows is determined by influences partly
solar, partly lunar, partly hygrometric ; and implies con-
siderations of fluid equilibrium and physical geography
The direction, dip, and variations of the magnetic needle,
are facts half terrestrial, half celestial — are caused by earth-
ly forces which have cycles of change corresponding with
astronomical periods. The flowing of the gulf-stream and the
annual migration of icebergs towards the equator, depend-
ing as they do on the balancing of the centripetal and centri-
fugal forces acting on the ocean, involve in their explana-
tion the Earth's rotation and spheroidal form, the laws of
hydrostatics, the relative densities of cold and warm water,
and the doctrines of evaporation. It is no doubt true, as
M. Comte says, that " our position in the solar system, and
the motions, form, size, equilibrium of the mass of our
world among the planets, must be known before we can un-
derstand the phenomena going on at its surface." But, fa-
tally for his hypothesis, it is also true that we must under-
stand a great part of the phenomena going on at its surface
before we can know its position, &c, in the solar system

186 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

It is not simply that, as we have already shown, those geo-
metrical and mechanical principles by which celestial ap-
pearances are explained, were first generalized from terres-
trial experiences ; but it is that the very obtainment of cor-
rect data, on which to base astronomical generalizations,
implies advanced terrestrial physics.

Until after optics had made considerable advance, the
Copernican system remained but a speculation. A single
modern observation on a star has to undergo a careful anal-
ysis by the combined aid of various sciences — has to be digest
ed by the organism of the sciences ; which have severally
to assimilate their respective parts of the observation, be-
fore the essential fact it contains is available for the further
development of astronomy. It has to be corrected not
only for nutation of the earth's axis and for precession of
the equinoxes, but for aberration and for refraction ; and
the formation of the tables by which refraction is calculat-
ed, presupposes knowledge of the law of decreasing density
in the upper atmospheric strata ; of the law of decreasing
temperature, and the influence of this on the density ; and of
hygrometric laws as also affecting density. So that, to get
materials for further advance, astronomy requires not only
the indirect aid of the sciences which have . presided over
the making of its improved instruments, but the direct aid
of an advanced optics, of barology, of thermology, of hy-
grometry ; and if we remember that these delicate obser-
vations are in some cases registered electrically, and that
they are further corrected for the " personal equation " — the
time elapsing between seeing and registering, which varies
with different observers — we may even add electricity and
psychology. If, theiL, so apparently simple a thing as as-
certaining the position of a star is complicated with so
many phenomena, it is clear that this notion of the inde-
pendence of the sciences, or certain of them, will not hold.

Whether objectively independent or not, they cannot

INTERCONNECTION OF ITS BRANCHES. 187

be subjectively so — they cannot have independence as pre-
sented to our consciousness ; and this is the only kind of
independence with which we are concerned. And here,
before leaving these illustrations, and especially this last
one, let us not omit to notice how clearly they exhibit that
increasingly active consensus of the sciences which charac-
terizes their advancing development. Besides finding that
in these later times a discovery in one science commonly
causes progress in others ; besides finding that a great part
of the questions with which modern science deals are so mix-
ed as to require the co-operation of many sciences for their
solution ; we find in this last case that, to make a single good
observation in the purest of the natural sciences, requires
the combined assistance of half a dozen other sciences.

Perhaps the clearest comprehension of the interconnect-
ed growth of the sciences may be obtained by contemplat-
ing that of the arts, to which it is strictly analogous, and
with which it is inseparably bound up. Most intelligent
persons must have been, at one time or other, struck with
the vast array of antecedents pre-supposed by one of our
processes of manufacture. Let him trace the production
of a printed cotton, and consider all that is implied by it.
There are the many successive improvements through
which the power-looms reached their present perfection ;
there is the steam-engine that drives them, having its long
history from Papin downwards ; there are the lathes in
which its cylinder was bored, and the string of ancestral
lathes from which those lathes proceeded; there is the
steam-hammer under which its crank shaft was welded;
there are the puddling-furnaces, the blast-furnaces, the coal-
mines and the iron-mines needful for producing the raw
material ; there are the slowly improved appliances by
which the factory was built, and lighted, and ventilated ;
there are the printing engine, and the die house, and the col-
our laboratory with its stock of materials from all parts of

188 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

the world, implying cochineal-culture, logwood-cutting, h*
digo-growing ; there are the implements used by the pro-
ducers of cotton, the gins by which it is cleaned, the elab-
orate machines by which it is spun : there are the vessels
in which cotton is imported, with the building-slips, the
rope-yards, the sail-cloth factories, the anchor-forges, need-
ful for making them ; and besides all these directly neces-
sary antecedents, each of them involving many others,
there are the institutions which have developed the requi-
site intelligence, the printing and publishing arrangements
which have spread the necessary information, the social or-
ganization which has rendered possible such a complex co-
operation of agencies.

Further analysis would show that the many arts thus
concerned in the economical production of a child's frock,
have each of them been brought to its present efficiency
by slow steps which the other arts have aided ; and that
from the beginning this reciprocity has been ever on the
increase. It needs but on the one hand to consider how
utterly impossible it is for the savage, even with ore and
coal ready, to produce so simple a thing as an iron hatchet ;
and then to consider, on the other hand, that it would have
been impracticable among ourselves, even a century ago,
to raise the tubes of the Britannia bridge from lack of the
hydraulic press ; to at once see how mutually dependent
are the arts, and how all must advance that each may ad-
vance. Well, the sciences are involved with each other
in just the same manner. They are, in fact, inextricably
woven into this same complex web of the arts ; and are
only conventionally independent of it. Originally the two
were one. How to fix the religious festivals ; when to sow :
how to weigh commodities ; and in what manner to meas-
ure ground; were the purely practical questions out of
which arose astronomy, mechanics, geometry. Since then
there has been a perpetual inosculation of the sciences and

INTERDEPENDENCE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 189

the arts. Science has been supplying art with truer generali
zations and more completely quantitative previsions. Art hay
been supplying science with better materials and more per-
fect instruments. And all along the interdependence has been
growing closer, not only between art and science, but among
the arts themselves, and among the sciences themselves.

How completely the analogy holds throughout, becomes
yet clearer when we recognise the fact that the sciences are
arts to each other. If, as occurs in almost every case, the
fact to be analyzed by any science, has first to be prepared
— to be disentangled from disturbing facts by the afore
discovered methods of other sciences ; the other sciences
so used, stand in the position of arts. If, in solving a dyna-
mical problem, a parallelogram is drawn, of which the sides
and diagonal represent forces, and by putting magnitudes
of extension for magnitudes of force a measurable relation
is established between quantities not else to be dealt with ;
it may be fairly said that geometry plays towards mechan-
ics much the same part that the fire of the founder plays
towards the metal he is going to cast. If, in analyzing the
phenomena of the coloured rings surrounding the point of
contact between two lenses, a Newton ascertains by calcu-
lation the amount of certain interposed spaces, far too mi-
nute for actual measurement ; he employs the science of
number for essentially the same purpose as that for which
the watchmaker employs tools. If, before writing down
his observation on a star, the astronomer has to separate
from it all the errors resulting from atmospheric and optical
laws, it is manifest that the refraction-tables, and logarithm-
books, and formulae, which he successively uses, serve him
much as retorts, and filters, and cupels serve the assayer
who wishes to separate the pure gold from all accompany-
ing ingredients.

So close, indeed, is the relationship, that it is impossi-
ble to say where science begins and art ends. All the in-

190 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

etruments of the natural philosopher are the products of
art ; the adjusting one of them for use is an art ; there is
art in making an observation with one of them ; it requires
art properly to treat the facts ascertained ; nay, even the
employing established generalizations to open the way to
new generalizations, may be considered as art. In each of
these cases previously organized knowledge becomes the
implement by which new knowledge is got at : and whether
that previously organized knowledge is embodied in a tan-
gible apparatus or in a formula, matters not in so far as its
essential relation to the new knowledge is concerned. If,
as no one will deny, art is applied knowledge, then such
portion of a scientific investigation as consists of applied
knowledge is art. So that we may even say that as soon
as any prevision in science passes out of its originally pas-
sive state, and is employed for reaching other previsions,
it passes from theory into practice — becomes science in ac-
tion— becomes art. And when we thus see how purely
conventional is the ordinary distinction, how impossible it
is to make any real separation — when we see not only that
science and art were originally one; that the arts have
perpetually assisted each other ; that there has been a con-
stant reciprocation of aid between the sciences and arts ;
but that the sciences act as arts to each other, and that the
established part of each science becomes an art to the
growing part — when we recognize the closeness of these
associations, we shall the more clearly perceive that as the
connexion of the arts with each other has been ever be-
coming more intimate ; as the help given by sciences to
arts and by arts to sciences, has been age by age increas-
ing ; so the interdependence of the sciences themselves has
been ever growing greater, their mutual relations more in-
volved, their consensus more active.

In here ending our sketch of the Genesis of Science, we

DIFFICULTIES IN TREATING- THE SUBJECT. 191

are conscious of having done the subject but scant justice,
Two difficulties have stood in our way : one, the having to
touch on so many points in such small space ; the other,
the necessity of treating in serial arrangement a process
which is not serial — a difficulty which must ever attend all
attempts to delineate processes of development, whatever
their special nature. Add to which, that to present in any-
thing like completeness and proportion, even the outlines
of so vast and complex a history, demands years of study.
Nevertheless, we believe that the evidence which has been
assigned suffices to substantiate the leading propositions
with which we set out. Inquiry into the first stages of
science confirms the conclusion which we drew from the
analysis of science as now existing, that it is not distinct
from common knowledge, but an outgrowth from it — an
extension of the perception by means of the reason.

That which we further found by analysis to form the
more specific characteristic of scientific previsions, as con-
trasted with the previsions of uncultured intelligence — their
quantitativeness — we also see to have been the character-
istic alike in the initial steps in science, and of all the steps
succeeding them. The facts and admissions cited in dis-
proof of the assertion that the sciences follow one another,
both logically and historically, in the order of their de-
creasing generality, have been enforced by the sundry in-
stances we have met with, in which the more general or
abstract sciences have been advanced only at the instiga-
tion of the more special or concrete— instances serving to
show that a more general science as much owes its progress
to the presentation of new problems by a more specia'
science, as the more special science owes its progress to
the solutions which the more general science is thus led to
attempt — instances therefore illustrating the position that
scientific advance is as much from the special to the general

as from the general to the special.
10

192 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.

Quite in harmony with this position we find to be the
admissions that the sciences are as branches of one trunk,
and that they were at first cultivated simultaneously ; and
this harmony becomes the more marked on finding, as we
have done, not only that the sciences have a common root,
but that science in general has a common root with lan-
guage, classification, reasoning, art ; that throughout civili-
zation these have advanced together, acting and reacting
upon each other just as the separate sciences have done ;
and that thus the development of intelligence in all its di-
visions and subdivisions has conformed to this same law
which we have shown that the sciences conform to. From
all which we may perceive that the sciences can with no
greater propriety be arranged in a succession, than language,
classification, reasoning, art, and science, can be arranged
in a succession ; that, however needful a succession may be
for the convenience of books and catalogues, it must be
recognized merely as a convention ; and that so far from its
being the function of a philosophy of the sciences to estab-
lish a hierarchy, it is its function to show that the linear
arrangements required for literary purposes, have none of
them any basis either in Nature or History.

There is one further remark we must not omit — a re-
mark touching the importance of the question that has been
discussed. Unfortunately it commonly happens that topics
of this abstract nature are slighted as of no practical mo-
ment ; and, we doubt not, that many will think it of very
little consequence what theory respecting the genesis of
science may be entertained. But the value of truths is of-
ten great, in proportion as their generality is wide. Re-
mote as they seem from practical application, the highest
generalizations are not unfrequently the most potent in
their effects, in virtue of their influence on all those subor
dhiate generalizations which regulate practice. And it must
be so here. Whenever established, a correct theory of the

EDUCATIONAL BEARINGS OF THE DISCUSSION. 193

Historical development of the sciences must have an immense
effect upon education ; and, through education, upon civili-
zation. Greatly as we differ from him in other respects,
we agree with M. Comte in the belief that, rightly conduct-
ed, the education of the individual must have a certain cor-
respondence with the evolution of the race.

"No one can contemplate the facts we have cited in illus-
tration of the early stages of science, without recognising
the necessity of the processes through which those stages
were reached — a necessity which, in respect to the leading
truths, may likewise be traced in all after stages. This ne-
cessity, originating in the very nature of the phenomena to
be analyzed and the faculties to be employed, more or less
fully applies to the mind of the child as to that of the sav-
age. We say more or less fully, because the correspondence
is not special but general only. Were the environment the
same in both cases, the correspondence would be complete.
But though the surrounding material out of which science is
to be organized, is, in many cases, the same to the juvenile
mind and the aboriginal mind, it is not so throughout ; as,
for instance, in the case of chemistry, the phenomena of
which are accessible to the one, but were inaccessible to
the other. Hence, in proportion as the environment differs,
the course of evolution must differ. After admitting sun-
dry exceptions, however, there remains a substantial par-
allelism ; and, if so, it becomes of great moment to ascer-
tain what really has been the process of scientific evolution.
The establishment of an erroneous theory must be disas-
trous in its educational results ; while the establishment of
a true one must eventually be fertile in school-reforms and
consequent social benefits.

IV.

THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

"TT"7"HY do we smile when a child puts on a man's hat ?
VV or what induces us to laugh on reading that the
corpulent Gibbon was unable to rise from his knees after
making a tender declaration ? The usual reply to such
questions is, that laughter results from a perception of in-
congruity. Even were there not on this reply the obvious
criticism that laughter often occurs from extreme pleasure
or from mere vivacity, there would still remain the real
problem — How comes a sense of the incongruous to be
followed by these peculiar bodily actions ? Some have al-
leged that laughter is due to the pleasure of a relative self-
elevation, which we feel on seeing the humiliation of others.
But this theory, whatever portion of truth it may contain,
is, in the first place, open to the fatal objection, that there
are various humiliations to others which produce in us any-
thing but laughter ; and, in the second place, it does not
apply to the many instances in which no one's dignity is
implicated : as when we laugh at a good pun. Moreover,
like the other, it is merely a generalization of certain con-
ditions to laughter ; and not an explanation of the odd
movements which occur under these conditions. Why,
when greatly delighted, or impressed with certain unex-

ILLUSTRATIONS OF REFLEX ACTION. 195

peeled contrasts of ideas, should there be a contraction of
particular facial muscles, and particular muscles of the
chest and abdomen ? Such answer to this question as may
be possible, can be rendered only by physiology.

Every child has made the attempt to hold the foot still
while it is tickled, and has failed ; and probably there is
scarcely any one who has not vainly tried to avoid wink-
ing, when a hand has been suddenly passed before the eyes.
These examples of muscular movements which occur inde-
pendently of the will, or in spite of it, illustrate what phy-
siologists call reflex-action ; as likewise do sneezing and
coughing. To this class of cases, in which involuntary
motions are accompauied by sensations, has to be added
another class of cases, in which involuntary motions are
unaccompanied by sensations : — instance the pulsations of
the heart ; the contractions of the stomach during diges-
tion. Further, the great mass of seemingly- voluntary acts
in such creatures as insects, worms, molluscs, are consid-
ered by physiologists to be as purely automatic as is the
dilatation or closure of the iris under variations in quantity
of light ; and similarly exemplify the law, that an impres-
sion on the end of an afferent nerve is conveyed to some
ganglionic centre, and is thence usually reflected along an
efferent nerve to one or more muscles which it causes to
contract.

In a modified form this principle holds with voluntary
acts. Nervous excitation always tends to beget muscular
motion ; and when it rises to a certain intensity, always
does beget it. Not only in reflex actions, whether with or
without sensation, do we see that special nerves, when
raised to a state of tension, discharge themselves on special
muscles with which they are indirectly connected; but
those external actions through which we read the feelings
of others, show us that under any considerable tension, the

196 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEB.

nervous system in general discharges itself on the muscular
system in general : either with or without the guidance of
the will. The shivering produced by cold, implies irregular
muscular contractions, which, though at first only partly
involuntary, become, when the cold is extreme, almost
wholly involuntary. When you have severely burnt your
finger, it is very difficult to preserve a dignified composure :
contortion of face, or movement of limb, is pretty sure to
follow. If a man receives good news with neither change
of feature nor bodily motion, it is inferred that he is not
much pleased, or that he has extraordinary self-control —
either inference implying that joy almost universally pro-
duces contraction of the muscles ; and so, alters the ex-
pression, or attitude, or both. And when we hear of the
feats of strength which men have performed when their
lives were at stake — when we read how, in the energy of
despair, even paralytic patients have regained for a time
the use of their limbs ; we see still more clearly the rela-
tions between nervous and muscular excitements. It be-
comes manifest both that emotions and sensations tend to
generate bodily movements, and that the movements are
vehement in proportion as the emotions or sensations are
intense.*

This, however, is not the sole direction in which ner-
vous excitement expends itself. Viscera as well as muscles
may receive the discharge. That the heart and blood-
vessels (which, indeed, being all contractile, may in a re-
stricted sense be classed with the muscular system) are
quickly affected by pleasures and pains, we have daily
proved to us. Every sensation of any acuteness acceler-
ates the pulse ; and how sensitive the heart is to emotions,
is testified by the familiar expressions which use heart and

* For numerous illustrations see essay on " The Origin and Function
of Music."

DISCHARGE OF NERVOUS EXCITEMENT. 197

feeling as convertible terms. Similarly with the digestive
organs. "Without detailing the various ways in which these
may be influenced by our mental states, it suffices to men-
tion the marked benefits derived by dyspeptics, as well as
other invalids, from cheerful society, welcome news, change
of scene, to show how pleasurable feeling stimulates th
viscera in general into greater activity.

There is still another direction in which any excited
portion of the nervous system may discharge itself; and a
direction in which it usually does discharge itself when the
excitement is not strong. It may pass on the stimulus to
some other portion of the nervous system. This is what
occurs in quiet thinking and feeling. The successive states
which constitute consciousness, result from this. Sensa-
tions excite ideas and emotions ; these in their turns arouse
other ideas and emotions ; and so, continuously. That is
to say, the tension existing in particular nerves, or groups
of nerves, when they yield us certain sensations, ideas, or
emotions, generates an equivalent tension in some other
nerves, or groups of nerves, with which there is a connex-
ion : the flow of energy passing on, the one idea or feeling
dies in producing the next.

Thus, then, while we are totally unable to comprehend
how the excitement of certain nerves should generate feel-
ing— while, in the production of consciousness by physical
agents acting on physical structure, we come to an abso-
lute mystery never to be solved ; it is yet quite possible
for us to know by observation what are the successive
forms which this absolute mystery may take. We see that
there are three channels along which nerves in a state of
tension may discharge themselves ; or rather, I should say,
three classes of channels. They may pass on the excite-
ment to other nerves that have no direct connexions with
the bodily members, and may so cause other feelings and
ideas ; or they may pass on the excitement to one or more

198 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

motor nerves, and so cause muscular contractions ; or they
may pass on the excitement to nerves which supply the vis-
cera, and may so stimulate one or more of these.

For simplicity's sake, I have described these as alterna-
tive routes, one or other of which any current of nerve-
force must take ; thereby, as it may be thought, implying
that such current will be exclusively confined to some one
of them. But this is by no means the case. Rarely, if
ever, does it happen that a state of nervous tension, present
to consciousness as a feeling, expends itself in one direction
only. Very generally it may be observed to expend itself
in two ; and it is probable that the discharge is never abso-
lutely absent from any one of the three. There is, how-
ever, variety in the proportions in which the discharge is
divided among these different channels under different cir-
cumstances. In a man whose fear impels him to run, the
mental tension generated is only in part transformed into a
muscular stimulus : there is a surplus which causes a rapid
current of ideas. An agreeable state of feeling produced,
say by praise, is not wholly used up in arousing the suc-
ceeding phase of the feeling, and the new ideas appropriate
to it ; but a certain portion overflows into the visceral ner-
vous system, increasing the action of the heart, and proba-
bly facilitating digestion. And here we come upon a class
of considerations and facts which open the way to a solu-
tion of our special problem.

For starting with the unquestionable truth, that at any
moment the existing quantity of liberated nerve-force,
which in an inscrutable way produces in us the state we
call feeling, must expend itself in some direction — must
generate an equivalent manifestation of force somewhere —
it clearly follows that, if of the several channels it may
take, one is wholly or partially closed, more must be taken
by the others ; or that if two are closed, the discharge
along the remaining one must be more intense ; and that,

WHY SILENT GRIEF IS THE DEEPEST GEIEF. 199

conversely, should anything determine an unusual efflux in
one direction, there will be a diminished efflux in other di-
rections.

Daily experience illustrates these conclusions. It is
commonly remarked, that the suppression of external signs
of feeling, makes feeling more intense. The deepest grief
is silent grief. Why? Because the nervous excitement
not discharged in muscular action, discharges itself in other
nervous excitements — arouses more numerous and more
remote associations of melancholy ideas, and so increases
the mass of feelings. People who conceal their anger are
habitually found to be more revengeful than those who ex-
plode in loud speech and vehement action. Why? Be-
cause, as before, the emotion is reflected back, accumulates,
and intensifies. Similarly, men who, as proved by their
powers of representation, have the keenest appreciation of
the comic, are usually able to do and say the most ludi-
crous things with perfect gravity.

On the other hand, all are familiar with the truth that
bodily activity deadens emotion. Under great irritation
we get relief by walking about rapidly. Extreme effort in
the bootless attempt to achieve a desired end, greatly di-
minishes the intensity of the desire. Those who are forced
to exert themselves after misfortunes, do not suffer nearly
so much as those who remain quiescent. If any one wishes
to check intellectual excitement, he cannot choose a more
efficient method than running till he is exhausted. More-
over, these cases, in which the production of feeling and
thought is hindered by determining the nervous energy
towards bodily movements, have their counterparts in the
cases in which bodily movements are hindered by extra
absorption of nervous energy in sudden thoughts and feel-
ings. If, when walking along, there flashes on you an idea
that creates great surprise, hope, or alarm, you stop ; or if
sitting cross-legged, swinging your pendent foot, the move-

200 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEE.

ment is at once arrested. From the viscera, too, intense
mental action abstracts energy. Joy, disappointment, anx
iety, or any moral perturbation rising to a great height,
will destroy appetite ; or if food has been taken, will arrest
digestion ; and even a purely intellectual activity, when
extreme, will do the like.

Facts, then, fully bear out these a priori inferences,
that the nervous excitement at any moment present to
consciousness as feeling, must expend itself in some way or
other ; that of the three classes of channels open to it, it
must take one, two, or more, according to circumstances ;
that the closure or obstruction of one, must increase the
discharge through the others ; and conversely, that if to
answer some demand, the efflux of nervous energy in one
•direction is unusually great, there must be a corresponding
decrease of the efflux in other directions. Setting out
from these premises, let us now see what interpretation is
to be put on the phenomena of laughter.

That laughter is a display of muscular excitement, and
so illustrates the general law that feeling passing a certain
pitch habitually vents itself in bodily action, scarcely needs
pointing out. It perhaps needs pointing out, however,
that strong feeling of almost any kind produces this result.
It is not a sense of the ludicrous, only, which does it ; nor
are the various forms of joyous emotion the sole additional
causes. We have, besides, the sardonic laughter and the
hysterical laughter, which result from mental distress ; to
which must be added certain sensations, as tickling, and,
according to Mr. Bain, cold, and some kinds of acute pain.

Strong feeling, mental or physical, being, then, the gen-
eral cause of laughter, we have to note that the muscular
actions constituting it are distinguished from most others
by this, that they are purposeless. In general, bodily mo-
tions that are prompted by feelings are directed to special

WHY WE LAUGH WITH THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 201

ends ; as when we try to escape a danger, or struggle tc
secure a gratification. But the movements of chest and
limbs which we make when laughing have no object. And
now remark that these quasi-convulsive contractions of the
muscles, having no object, but being results of an uncon-
trolled discharge of energy, we may see whence arise their
special characters — how it happens that certain classes of
muscles are affected first, and then certain other classes.
For an overflow of nerve-force, undirected by any motive,
will manifestly take first the most habitual routes; and if
these do not suffice, will next overflow into the less habit-
ual ones. "Well, it is through the organs of speech that
feeling passes into movement with the greatest frequency.
The jaws, tongue, and lips are used not only to express
strong irritation or gratification ; but that very moderate
flow of mental energy which accompanies ordinary conver-
sation, finds its chief vent through this channel. Hence it
happens that certain muscles round the mouth, small and
easy to move, are the first to contract under pleasurable,
emotion. The class of muscles which, next after those of
articulation, are most constantly set in action (or extra ac-
tion, we should say) by feelings of all kinds, are those of
respiration. Under pleasurable or painful sensations we
breathe more rapidly : possibly as a consequence of the in-
creased demand for oxygenated blood. The sensations
that accompany exertion also bring on hard- breathing ;
which here more evidently responds to the physiological
needs. And emotions, too, agreeable and disagreeable,
both, at first, excite respiration ; though the last subse-
quently depress it. That is to say, of the bodily muscles,
the respiratory are more constantly implicated than any
others in those various acts which our feelings impel us to ;
and, hence, when there occurs an undirected discharge of
nervous energy into the muscular system, it happens that,
if the quantity be considerable, it convulses not only eer-

202 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

tain of the articulatory and vocal muscles, but also those
which expel air from the lungs.

Should the feeling to be expended be still greater in
amount — too great to find vent in these classes of musclea
— another class comes into play. The upper limbs are set
in motion. Children frequently clap their hands in glee ;
by some adults the hands are rubbed together ; and others,
under still greater intensity of delight, slap their knees and
sway their bodies backwards and forwards. Last of all,
when the other channels for the escape of the surplus nerve-
force have been filled to overflowing, a yet further and less-
used group of muscles is spasmodically affected : the head
is thrown back and the spine bent inwards — there is a slight
degree of what medical men call opisthotonos. Thus, then,
* without contending that the phenomena of laughter in all
their details are to be so accounted for, we see that in their
ensemble they conform to these general principles : — that
feeling excites to muscular action ; that when the muscular
action is unguided by a purpose, the muscles first affected
are those which feeling most habitually stimulates ; and
that as the feeling to be expended increases in quantity, it
excites an increasing number of muscles, in a succession
determined by the relative frequency with which they re-
spond to the regulated dictates of feeling.

There still, however, remains the question with which
we set out. The explanation here given applies only to the
laughter produced by acute pleasure or pain : it does not
apply to the laughter that follows certain perceptions of
incongruity. It is an insufficient explanation that in these
cases, laughter is a result of the pleasure we take in es-
caping from the restraint of grave feelings. That this is a
part-cause is true. Doubtless very often, as Mr. Bain says,
w it is the coerced form of seriousness and solemnity with-
out the reality that gives us that stiff position from which
a contact with triviality or vulgarity relieves us, to our up*

EFFECT OF INCONGRUOUS PERCEPTIONS. 203

roarious delight." And in so far as mirth is caused by the
gush of agreeable feeling that follows the cessation of men-
tal strain, it further illustrates the general principle above
set forth. But no explanation is thus afforded of the mirth
which ensues when the short silence between the andante
and allegro in one of Beethoven's symphonies, is broken by
a loud sneeze. In this, and hosts of like cases, the mental
tension is not coerced but spontaneous — not disagreeable
but agreeable ; and the coming impressions to which the
attention is directed, promise a gratification that few, if
any, desire to escape. Hence, when the unlucky sneeze
occurs, it cannot be that the laughter of the audience is
due simply to the release from an irksome attitude of
mind : some other cause must be sought.

This cause we shall arrive at by carrying our analysis a
step further. We have but to consider the quantity of feel-
ing that exists under such circumstances, and then to ask
what are the conditions that determine the direction of its
discharge, to at once reach a solution. Take a case. Tou
are sitting in a theatre, absorbed in the progress of an in-
teresting drama. Some climax has been reached which
has aroused your sympathies — say, a reconciliation between
the hero and heroine, after long and painful misunderstand-
ing. The feelings excited by this scene are not of a kind
from which you seek relief; but are, on the contrary, a
grateful relief from the painful feelings with which you
have witnessed the previous estrangement. Moreover, the
sentiments these fictitious personages have for the moment
inspired you with, are not such as would lead you to re-
joice in any indignity offered to them ; but rather, such as
would make you resent the ;ndignity. And now, while
you are contemplating the reconciliation with a pleasurable
sympathy, there appears from behind the scenes a tame
kid, which, having stared round at the audience, walks up
to the lovers and sniffs at them. You cannot help joining

204 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

in the roar which greets this contretemps. Inexplicable ae
is this irresistible burst on the hypothesis of a pleasure in
escaping from mental restraint ; or on the hypothesis of a
pleasure from relative increase of self-importance, when
witnessing the humiliation of others ; it is readily explica-
ble if we consider what, in such a case, must become of the
feeling that existed at the moment the incongruity arose.
A large mass of emotion had been produced ; or, to speak
in physiological language, a large portion of the nervous
system was in a state of tension. There was also great
expectation with respect to the further evolution of the
scene — a quantity of vague, nascent thought and emotion,
into which the existing quantity of thought and emotion
was about to pass.

Had there been no interruption, the body of new ideas
and feelings next excited, would have sufficed to absorb
the whole of the liberated nervous energy. But now, this
large amount of nervous energy, instead of being allowed
to expend itself in producing an equivalent amount of the
new thoughts and emotions which were nascent, is suddenly
checked in its flow. The channels along which the dis-
charge was about to take place, are closed. The new chan-
nel opened — that afforded by the appearance and proceed-
ings of the kid — is a small one ; the ideas and feelings
suggested are not numerous and massive enough to carry
off the nervous energy to be expended. The excess must
therefore discharge itself in some other direction ; and
in the way already explained, there results an efflux
through the motor nerves to various classes of the mus-
cles, producing the half-convulsive actions we term
laughter.

This explanation is in harmony with the fact, that when,
among several persons who witness the same ludicrous
occurrence, there are some who do not laugh ; it is because
there has arisen in them an emotion not participated in by

DISCHARGE OF AEEESTED FEELINGS. 205

the rest, and which is sufficiently massive to absorb all the
nascent excitement. Among the spectators of an awkward
tumble, those who preserve their gravity are those in whom
there is excited a degree of sympathy with the sufferer,
sufficiently great to serve as an outlet for the feeling which
the occurrence had turned out of its previous course.
Sometimes anger carries off the arrested current ; and so
prevents laughter. An instance of this was lately furnished
me by a friend who had been witnessing the feats at
Franconi's. A tremendous leap had just been made by an
acrobat over a number of horses. The clown, seemingly
envious of this success, made ostentatious preparation for
doing the like ; and then, taking the preliminary run with
immense energy, stopped short on reaching the first horse,
and pretended to wipe some dust from its haunches. In the
majority of the spectators, merriment was excited ; but in
my friend, wound up by the expectation of the coming leap
to a state of great nervous tension, the effect of the baulk
was to produce indignation. Experience thus proves
what the theory implies : namely, that the discharge of
arrested feelings into the muscular system, takes place
only in the absence of other adequate channels — does not
take place if there arise other feelings equal in amount to
those arrested.

Evidence still more conclusive is at hand. If we con-
trast the incongruities which produce laughter with those
which do not, we at once see that in the non-ludicrous ones
the unexpected state of feeling aroused, though wholly
different in kind, is not less in quantity or intensity.
Among incongruities that may excite anything but a laugh,
Mr. Bain instances — " A decrepit man under a heavy bur-
den, five loaves and two fishes among a multitude, and all
unfitness and gross disproportion ; an instrument out of
tune, a fly in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes studying
geometry in a siege, and all discordant things ; a wolf in

206 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

sheep's clothing, a breach of bargain, and falsehood in gen*
eral ; the multitude taking the law in their own hands,
and everything of the nature of disorder ; a corpse at a
feast, parental cruelty, filial ingratitude, and whatever is
unnatural ; the entire catalogue of the vanities given by
Solomon, are all incongruous, but they cause feelings of
pain, anger, sadness, loathing, rather than mirth." Now
in these cases, where the totally unlike state of conscious-
ness suddenly produced, is not inferior in mass to the
preceding one, the conditions to laughter are not ful-
filled. As above .shown, laughter naturally results only
when consciousness is unawares transferred from great
things to small — only when there is what we call a descend-
ing incongruity.

And now observe, finally, the fact, alike inferable d
priori and illustrated in experience, that an ascending
incongruity not only fails to cause laughter, but works on
the muscular system an effect of exactly the reverse kind.
When after something very insignificant there arises with-
out anticipation something very great, the emotion we call
wonder results ; and this emotion is accompanied not by
an excitement of the muscles, but by a relaxation of them.
In children and country people, that falling of the jaw
which occurs on witnessing something that is imposing and
unexpected, exemplifies this effect. Persons who have
been wonder-struck at the production of very striking
results by a seemingly inadequate cause, are frequently
described as unconsciously dropping the things they held
in their hands. Such are just the effects to be anticipated.
After an average state of consciousness, absorbing but a
small quantity of nervous energy, is aroused without the
slightest notice, a strong emotion of awe, terror, or admi-
ration ; joined with the astonishment due to an apparent
want of adequate causation. This new state of conscious-
ness demands far more nervous energy than that which it

VARIOUS CHANNELS OF NERVOUS DISCHARGE. 207

Mas suddenly replaced ; and this increased absorption of
nervous energy in mental changes, involves a temporary
diminution of the outflow in other directions : whence the
pendent jaw and the relaxing grasp.

One further observation is worth making. Among the
several sets of channels into which surplus feeling might be
discharged, wa3 named the nervous system of the viscera.
The sudden overflow of an arrested mental excitement,
which, as we have seen, results from a descending incon-
gruity, must doubtless stimulate not only the muscular sys-
tem, as we see it does, but also the internal organs ; the
heart and stomach must come in for a share of the dis-
charge. And thus there seems to be a good physiological
basis for the popular notion that mirth-creating excitement
facilitates digestion.

Though in doing so I go beyond the boundaries of
the immediate topic, I may fitly point out that the method
of inquiry here followed, is one which enables us to
understand various phenomena besides those of laugh-
ter. To show the importance of pursuing it, I will in-
dicate the explanation it furnishes of another familiar class
of facts.

All know how generally a large amount of emotion dis-
turbs the action of the intellect, and interferes with the
power of expression. A speech delivered with great
facility to tables and chairs, is by no means so easily deliv-
ered to an audience. Every schoolboy can testify that his
trepidation, when standing before a master, has often dis-
abled him from repeating a lesson which he had duly
learnt. In explanation of this we commonly say that the
attention is distracted — that the proper train of ideas is
broken by the intrusion of ideas that are irrelevant. But
the question is, in what manner does unusual emotion
produce this effect; and we are here supplied with a

208 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.

tolerably obvious answer. The repetition of a lesson, or
set speech, previously thought out, implies the flow of a
very moderate amount of nervous excitement through a
comparatively narrow channel. The thing to be done is
simply to call up in succession certain previously-arranged
ideas — a process in which no great amount of mental
energy is expended. Hence, when there is a large quantity
of emotion, which must be discharged in some direction or
other ; and when, as usually happens, the restricted series
of intellectual actions to be gone through, does not suffice
to carry it off; there result discharges along other channels
besides the one prescribed : there are aroused various
ideas foreign to the train of thought to be pursued ; and
these tend to exclude from consciousness those which
should occupy it.

And now observe the meaning of those bodily actions
spontaneously set up under these circumstances. The
school-boy saying his lesson, commonly has his fingers
actively engaged — perhaps in twisting about a broken pen,
or perhaps squeezing the angle of his jacket ; and if told to
keep his hands still, he soon again falls into the same or a
similar trick. Many anecdotes are current of public speak-
ers having incurable automatic actions of this class : barris-
ters who perpetually wound and unwound pieces of tape ;
members of parliament ever putting on and taking off their
spectacles. So long as such movements are unconscious,
they facilitate the mental actions. At least this seems a
fair inference from the fact that confusion frequently re-
sults from putting a stop to them : witness the case nar-
rated by Sir Walter Scott of his school-fellow, who became
unable to say his lesson after the removal of the waistcoat-
button that he habitually fingered while in class. But
why do they facilitate the mental actions ? Clearly be-
cause they draw off a portion of the surplus nervous
excitement. If, as above explained, the quantity of men-

MUSCULAR MOVEMENT AND MENTAL ACTION. 209

tal energy generated is greater than can find vent along
the narrow channel of thought that is open to it ; and if,
in consequence, it is apt to produce confusion by rushing
into other channels of thought ; then by allowing it au
exit through the motor nerves into the muscular system,
the pressure is diminished, and irrelevant ideas are less
likely to intrude on consciousness.

This further illustration will, I think, justify the posi-
tion that something may be achieved by pursuing in other
cases this method of psychological inquiry. A complete
explanation of the phenomena, requires us to trace out
all the consequences of any given state of conscious-
ness ; and we cannot do this without studying the effects,
bodily and mental, as varying in quantity at each other's
expense. We should probably learn much if we in
every case asked — Where is all the nervous energy
gone?

V.

THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC

"TTT HEN Carlo, standing, chained to his kennel, sees
VV his master in the distance, a slight motion of the
tail indicates his but faint hope that he is about to be let
out. A much more decided wagging of the tail, passing
by-and-by into lateral undulations of the body, follows his
master's nearer approach. When hands are laid on his
collar, and he knows that he is really to have an outing,
his jumping and wriggling are such that it is by no means
easy to loose his fastenings. And when he finds himself
actually free, his joy expends itself in bounds, in pirouettes,
and in scourings hither and thither at the top of his speed.
Puss, too, by erecting her tail, and by every time raising
her back to meet the caressing hand of her mistress,
similarly expresses her gratification by certain muscular
actions ; as likewise do the parrot by awkward dancing
on his perch, and the canary by hopping and fluttering
about his cage with unwonted rapidity. Under emotions
of an opposite kind, animals equally display muscular
excitement. The enraged lion lashes his sides with his
tail, knits his brows, protrudes his claws. The cat sets
up her back ; the dog retracts his upper lip ; the horse
throws back his ears. And in the struggles of creatures
in pain, we see that the like relation holds between ex-

EMOTION PRODUCES ACTION. 211

citement of the muscles and excitement of the nerves of
sensation.

In ourselves, distinguished from lower creatures as we
are by feelings alike more powerful and more varied,
parallel facts are at once more conspicuous and more nu-
merous. "We may conveniently look at them in groups.
We shall find that pleasurable sensations and painful sen-
sations, pleasurable emotions and painful emotions, all
tend to produce active demonstrations in proportion to
their intensity.

In children, and even in adults who are not restrained
by regard for appearances, a highly agreeable taste is
followed by a smacking of the lips. An infant will laugh
and bound in its nurse's arms at the sight of a brilliant
colour or the hearing of a new sound. People are apt to
beat time with head or feet to music which particularly
pleases them. In a sensitive person an agreeable perfume
will produce a smile ; and smiles will be seen on the faces
of a crowd gazing at some splendid burst of fireworks.
Even the pleasant sensation of warmth felt on getting to
the fireside out of a winter's storm, will similarly express
itself in the face.

Painful sensations, being mostly far more intense than
pleasurable ones, cause muscular actions of a much more
decided kind. A sudden twinge produces a convulsive
start of the whole body. A pain less violent, but con-
tinuous, is accompanied by a knitting of the brows, a set-
ting of the teeth or biting of the lip, and a contrac-
tion of the features generally. Under a persistent pain
of a severer kind, other muscular actions are added :
the body is swayed to and fro ; the hands clench any-
thing they can lay hold of; and should the agony rise
still higher, the sufferer rolls about on the floor almost con
vulsed.

Though more varied, the natural language of the pleas-

212 THE OEIGIN AND FUNCTION OF 31TJSIC.

urable emotions comes within the same generalization. A
smile, which is the commonest expression of gratified feel-
ing, is a contraction of certain facial muscles ; and when
the smile broadens into a laugh, we see a more violent and
more general muscular excitement produced by an intenser
gratification. Rubbing together of the hands, and that*
other motion which Dickens somewhere describes as
" washing with impalpable soap in invisible water," have
like implications. Children may often be seen to "jump
for joy." Even in adults of excitable temperament, an
action approaching to it is sometimes witnessed. And
dancing has all the world through been regarded as natural
to an elevated state of mind. Many of the special emo-
tions show themselves in special muscular actions. The
gratification resulting from success, raises the head and
gives firmness to the gait. A hearty grasp of the hand is
currently taken as indicative of friendship. Under a gush
of affection the mother clasps her child to her breast, feel-
ing as though she could squeeze it to death. And so in
sundry other cases. Even in that brightening of the eye
with which good news is received we may trace the same
truth ; for this appearance of greater brilliancy is due to
an extra contraction of the muscle which raises the eyelid,
and so allows more light to fall upon, and be reflected from,
the wet surface of the eyeball.

The bodily indications of painful emotions are equally
numerous, and still more vehement. Discontent is shown
by raised eyebrows and wrinkled forehead ; disgust by a
curl of the lip ; offence by a pout. The impatient man
beats a tattoo with his fingers on the table, swings his pen-
dent leg with increasing rapidity, gives needless pokings to
the fire, and presently paces with hasty strides about the
room. In great grief there is wringing of the hands, acd
even tearing of the hair. An angry child stamps, or rolls
on its back and kicks its heels in the air ; and in manhood,

FEELINGS ACT AS MUSCULAR STIMULI. 213

anger, first showing itself in frowns, in distended nostrils,
in compressed lips, goes on to produce grinding of the
teeth, clenching of the fingers, blows of the fist on the ta-
ble, and perhaps ends in a violent attack on the offending
person, or in throwing about and breaking the furniture.
From that pursing of the mouth indicative of slight dis-
pleasure, up to the frantic struggles of the maniac, we shall
find that mental irritation tends to vent itself in bodily ac-
tivity.

All feelings, then — sensations or emotions, pleasurable
or painful — have this common characteristic, that they are
muscular stimuli. Not forgetting the few apparently ex-
ceptional cases in which emotions exceeding a certain inten-
sity produce prostration, we may set it down as a general
law that, alike in man and animals, there is a direct connec-
tion between feeling and motion ; the last growing more
vehement as the first grows more intense. Were it allow-
able here to treat the matter scientifically, we might trace
this general law down to the principle known among phys-
iologists as that of reflex action* Without doing this,
however, the above numerous instances justify the general-
ization, that mental excitement of all kinds ends in excite-
ment of the muscles ; and that the two preserve a more or
less constant ratio to each other.

" But what has all this to do with The Origin and
Function of Music ? " asks the reader. Very much, as
we shall presently see. All music is originally vocal. All
vocal sounds are produced by the agency of certain mus-
cles. These muscles, in common with those of the body at
large, are excited to contraction by pleasurable and painful
feeling3. And therefore it is that feelings demonstrate

* Those who seek information on this point may find it in an interest
mg tract by Mr. Alexander Bain, on Animal Instinct and Intelligence.

214 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

themselves in sounds as well as in movements. Therefoi'6
it is that Carlo barks as well as leaps when he is let out —
that puss purrs as well as erects her tail — that the canary
chirps as well as flutters. Therefore it is that the angry-
lion roars while he lashes his sides, and the dog growls
while he retracts his lip. Therefore it is that the maimed
animal not only struggles, but howls. And it is from this
cause that in human beings bodily suffering expresses itself
not only in contortions, but in shrieks and groans — that in
anger, and fear, and grief, the gesticulations are accompa-
nied by shouts and screams — that delightful sensations are
followed by exclamations — and that we hear screams of joy
and shouts of exultation.

We have here, then, a principle underlying all vocal
phenomena ; including those of vocal music, and by conse-
quence those of music in general. The muscles that move
the chest, larynx, and vocal chords, contracting like other
muscles in proportion to the intensity of the feelings ; ev-
ery different contraction of these muscles involving, as it
does, a different adjustment of the vocal organs; every dif-
ferent adjustment of the vocal organs causing a change in
the sound emitted ; — it follows that variations of voice are
the physiological results of variations of feeling ; it follows
that each inflection or modulation is the natural outcome
of some passing emotion or sensation ; and it follows that
the explanation of all kinds of vocal expression, must be
sought in this general relation between mental and muscu-
lar excitements. Let us, then, see whether we cannot thus
account for the chief peculiarities in the utterance of the
feelings : grouping these peculiarities under the heads of
loudness, quality, or timbre, pitch, intervals, and rate of
variation.

Between the lungs and the organs of voice, there is
much the same relation as between the bellows of an organ

VOCAL SOUNDS AND STATES OF FEELING. 215

and its pipes. And as the loudness of the sound given out
by an organ-pipe increases with the strength of the blast
from the bellows ; so, other things equal, the loudness of a
vocal sound increases with the strength of the blast from
the lungs. But the expulsion of air from the lungs is ef-
fected by certain muscles of the chest and abdomen. The
force with which these muscles contract, is proportionate
to the intensity of the feeling experienced. Hence, a priori,
loud sounds will be the habitual results of strong feelings.
That they are so we have daily proof. The pain which, if
moderate, can be borne silently, causes outcries if it be-
comes extreme. While a slight vexation makes a child
whimper, a fit of passion calls forth a howl that disturbs
the neighbourhood. When the voices in an adjacent room
become unusually audible, we, infer anger, or surprise, or
joy. Loudness of applause is significant of great appro-
bation ; and with uproarious mirth we associate the idea of
high enjoyment. Commencing with the silence of apathy,
we find that the utterances grow louder as the sensations
or emotions, whether pleasurable or painful, grow stronger.
That different qualities of voice accompany different
mental states, and that under states of excitement the tones
are more sonorous than usual, is another general fact ad-
mitting of a parallel explanation. The sounds of common
conversation have but little resonance ; those of strong
feeling have much more. Under rising ill temper the voice
acquires a metallic ring. In accordance with her constant
mood, the ordinary speech of a virago has a piercing qual-
ity quite opposite to that softness indicative of placidity.
A ringing laugh marks an especially joyous temperament.
Grief unburdening itself uses tones approaching in timbre
to those of chanting : and in his most pathetic passages an
eloquent speaker similarly falls into tones more vibratory
than those common to him. Now any one may readily

convince himself that resonant vocal sounds can be pro
11

216 THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

duced only by a certain muscular effort additional to that
ordinarily needed. If after uttering a word in his speak-
ing voice, the reader, without changing the pitch or the
loudness, will sing this word, he will perceive that before
he can sing it, he has to alter the adjustment of the vocal
organs ; to do which a certain force must be used ; and by
putting his fingers on that external prominence marking
the top of the larynx, he will have further evidence that to
produce a sonorous tone the organs must be drawn out of
their usual position. Thus, then, the fact that the tones of
excited feeling are more vibratory than those of common
conversation, is another instance of the connexion between
mental excitement and muscular excitement. The speak-
ing voice, the recitative voice, and the singing voice, sev-
erally exemplify one general principle.

That the pitch of the voice varies according to the ac-
tion of the vocal muscles, scarcely needs saying. All know
that the middle notes, in which they converse, are made
without any appreciable effort ; and all know that to make
either very high or very low notes requires a considerable
effort. In either ascending or descending from the pitch
of ordinary speech, we are conscious of an increasing mus-
cular strain, which, at both extremes of the register, be-
comes positively painful. Hence it follows from our gen-
eral principle, that while indifference or calmness will use
the medium tones, the tones used during excitement will
be either above or below them ; and will rise higher and
higher, or fall lower and lower, as the feelings grow
stronger. This physiological deduction we also find to be
in harmony with familiar facts. The habitual sufferer ut-
ters his complaints in a voice raised considerably above the
natural key ; and agonizing pain vents itself in either
shrieks or groans — in very high or very low notes. Begin-
ning at his talking pitch, the cry of the disappointed urchin
grows more shrill as it grows louder. The " Qh ! " of as-

EMOTIONS EXPRESSED BY PITCH. 217

tonisliment or delight, begins several notes below the mid
die voice, and descends still lower. Anger expresses it
self in high tones, or else in " curses not loud but deep."
Deep tones, too, are always used in uttering strong re-
proaches. Such an exclamation as " Beware ! " if made
dramatically — that is, if made with a show of feeling —
must be many notes lower than ordinary. Further, we
have groans of disapprobation, groans of horror, groans
of remorse. And extreme joy and fear are alike accompa-
nied by shrill outcries.

Nearly allied to the subject of pitch, is that of inter-
vals ; and the explanation of them carries our argument a
step further. While calm speech is comparatively monot-
onous, emotion makes use of fifths, octaves, and even wider
intervals. Listen to any one narrating or repeating some-
thing in which he has no interest, and his voice will not
wander more than two or three notes above or below his
medium note, and that by small steps ; but when he comes
to some exciting event he will be heard not only to use the
higher and lower notes of his register, but to go from one to
the other by larger leaps. Being unable in print to imitate
these traits of feeling, we feel some difficulty in fully real-
izing them to the reader. But we may suggest a few re-
membrances which will perhaps call to mind a sufficiency
of others. If two men living in the same place, and fre-
quently seeing one another, meet, say at a public assembly,
any phrase with which one may be heard to accost the
other — as M Hallo, are you here ? " — will have an ordinary
intonation. But if one of them, after long absence, has
unexpectedly returned, the expression of surprise with
which his friend may greet him — " Hallo ! how came you
here ? " — will be uttered in much more strongly contrasted
tones. The two syllables of the word " Hallo " will be,
Ihe one much higher and the other much lower than be-

218 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

fore ; and the rest of the sentence will similarly ascend and
descend by longer steps.

Again, if, supposing her to be in an adjoining room, the
mistress of the house calls " Mary," the two syllables of
the name will be spoken in an ascending interval of a third.
If Mary does not reply, the call will be repeated probably
in a descending fifth ; implying the slightest shade of an-
noyance at Mary's inattention. Should Mary still make
no answer, the increasing annoyance will show itself by the
use of a descending octave on the next repetition of the
call. And supposing the silence to continue, the lady, if
not of a very even temper, will show her irritation at
Mary's seemingly intentional negligence by finally calling
her in tones still more widely contrasted — the first syllable
being higher and the last lower than before.

Now, these and analogous facts, which the reader will
readily accumulate, clearly conform to the law laid down.
For to make large intervals requires more muscular action
than to make small ones. But not only is the extent of vo.
cal intervals thus explicable as due to the relation between
nervous and muscular excitement, but also in some degree
their direction, as ascending or descending. The middle
notes being those which demand no appreciable eflbrt of
muscular adjustment ; and the effort becoming greater as
we either ascend or descend ; it follows that a departure
from the middle notes in either direction will mark increas-
ing emotion ; while a return towards the middle notes will
mark decreasing emotion. Hence it happens that an en-
thusiastic person uttering such a sentence as — " It was the
most splendid sight I ever saw ! " will ascend to the first
syllable of the word " splendid," and thence will descend :
the word " splendid " marking the climax of the feeling
produced by the recollection. Hence, again, it happens
that, under some extreme vexation produced by another's
stupidity, an irascible man, exclaiming — " What a con-

EMOTIONS EXPRESSED BY INTERVALS. 219

founded fool the fellow is ! " will begin somewhat below his
middle voice, and descending to the word " fool," which
he will utter in one of his deepest notes, will then ascend
again. And it may be remarked, that the word " fool "
will not only be deeper and louder than the rest, but will
also have more emphasis of articulation — another mode in
which muscular excitement is shown.

There is some danger, however, in giving instances like
this ; seeing that as the mode of rendering will vary accor-
ding to the intensity of the feeling which the reader feigns
to himself, the right cadence may not be hit upon. With
single words there is less difficulty. Thus the " Indeed ! "
with which a surprising fact is received, mostly begins on
the middle note of the voice, and rises with the second syl-
lable ; or, if disapprobation as well as astonishment is felt,
the first syllable will be below the middle note, and the
second lower still. Conversely, the word " Alas ! " which
marks not the rise of a paroxysm of grief, but its decline,
is uttered in a cadence descending towards the middle
note ; or, if the first syllable is in the lower part of the
register, the second ascends towards the middle note. In
the " Heigh-ho ! " expressive of mental and muscular pros-
tration, we may see the same truth ; and if the cadence ap-
propriate to it be inverted the absurdity of the effect clearly
shows how the meaning of intervals is dependent on the
principle we have been illustrating.

The remaining characteristic of emotional speech which
we have to notice is that of variability of pitch. It is
scarcely possible here to convey adequate ideas of this
more complex manifestation. We must be content with
simply indicating some occasions on which it may be ob-
served. On a meeting of friends, for instance — as when
there arrives a party of much-wished-for visitors — the voices
of all will be heard to undergo changes of pitch not only
greater but much more numerous than usual. If a speaker

220 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

at a public meeting is interrupted by some squabble among
those he is addressing, his comparatively level tones will
be in marked contrast with the rapidly changing one of the
disputants. And among children, whose feelings are less
under control than those of adults, this peculiarity is still
more decided. During a scene of complaint and recrimi-
nation between two excitable little girls, the voices may be
heard to run up and down the gamut several times in each
sentence. In such cases we once more recognise the same
law : for muscular excitement is shown not only in strength
of contraction but also in the rapidity with which different
muscular adjustments succeed each other.

Thus we find all the leading vocal phenomena to have a
physiological basis. They are so many manifestations of
the general law that feeling is a stimulus to muscular action
-—a law conformed to throughout the whole economy, not
of man only, but of every sensitive creature — a law, there-
fore, which lies deep in the nature of animal organization.
The expressiveness of these various modifications of voice
is therefore innate. Each of us, from babyhood upwards,
has been spontaneously making them, when under the va-
rious sensations and emotions by which they are produced.
Having been conscious of each feeling at the same time
that we heard ourselves make the consequent sound, we
have acquired an established association of ideas between
such sound and the feeling which caused it. When the
like sound is made by another, we ascribe the like feeling
to him ; and by a further consequence we not only ascribe
to him that feeling, but have a certain degree of it aroused
in ourselves : for to become conscious of the feeling which
another is experiencing, is to have that feeling awakened
in our own consciousness, which is the same thing as expe-
riencing the feeling. Thus these various modifications of
voice become not only a language through which we un-
derstand the emotions of others, but also the means of ex«
citing our sympathy with such emotions.

BASIS OF A THEORY OF MUSIC. 221

Have we not here, then, adequate data for a theory of
music ? These vocal peculiarities which indicate excited
feeling, are those which especially distinguish song from or-
dinary speech. Every one of the alterations of voice which
we have found to be a physiological result of pain or pleas-
ure, is carried to its greatest extreme in vocal music. For
instance, we saw that, in virtue of the general relation be-
tween mental and muscular excitement, one characteristic
of passionate utterance is loudness. Well, its comparative
loudness is one of the distinctive marks of song as contrast-
ed with the speech of daily life ; and further, the forte
passages of an air are those intended to represent the climax
of its emotion. We next saw that the tones in which emotion
expresses itself, are, in conformity with this same law, of a
more sonorous timbre than those of calm conversation.
Here, too, song displays a still higher degree of the pecu-
liarity ; for the singing tone is the most resonant we can
make. Again, it was shown that, from a like cause, men-
tal excitement vents itself in the higher and lower notes
of the register ; using the middle notes but seldom. And
it scarcely needs saying that vocal music is still more dis-
tinguished by its comparative neglect of the notes in which
we talk, and its habitual use of those above or below them
and, moreover, that its most passionate effects are common-
ly produced at the two extremities of its scale, but especi-
ally the upper one.

A yet further trait of strong feeling, similarly accounted
for, was the employment of larger intervals than are em-
ployed in common converse. This trait, also, every ballad
and aria carries to an extent beyond that heard in the
spontaneous utterances of emotion : add to which, that the
direction of these intervals, which, as diverging from or
converging towards the medium tones, we found to be
physiologically expressive of increasing or decreasing emo-
tion, may be observed to have in music like meanings.

222 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

Once more, it was pointed out that not only extreme but also
rapid variations of pitch, are characteristic of mental ex-
citement ; and once more we see in the quick changes of
every melody, that song carries the characteristic as far, if
not farther. Thus, in respect alike of loudness, timbre,
pitch, intervals, and rate of variation, song employs and
exaggerates the natural language of the emotions ; — it arises
from a systematic combination of those vocal peculiarities
which are the physiological effects of acute pleasure and
pain.

Besides these chief characteristics of song as distinguish-
ed from common speech, there are sundry minor ones
similarly explicable as due to the relation between mental
and muscular excitement ; and before proceeding further
these should be briefly noticed. Thus, certain passions,
and perhaps all passions when pushed to an extreme, pro-
duce (probably through their influence over the action of
the heart) an effect the reverse of that which has been de-
scribed : they cause a physical prostration, one symptom of
which is a general relaxation of the muscles, and a conse-
quent trembling. We have the trembling of anger, of
fear, of hope, of joy ; and the vocal muscles being implicat-
ed with the rest, the voice too becomes tremulous. Now,
in singing, this tremulousness of voice is very effectively
used by some vocalists in highly pathetic passages ; some-
times, indeed, because of its effectiveness, too much used
by them — as by Tamberlik, for instance.

Again, there is a mode of musical execution known as
the staccato, appropriate to energetic passages — to passages
expressive of exhilaration, of resolution, of confidence.
The action of the vocal muscles which produces this stac*
oato style, is analogous to the muscular action which pro-
duces the sharp, decisive, energetic movements of body in-
dicating these states of mind ; and therefore it is that the
staccato style has the meaning we ascribe to it. Converse

RHYTHMIC MOTION UNDER EXCITEMENT. 223

ly, slurred intervals are expressive of gentler and less active
feelings ; and are so because tbey imply the smaller muscu-
lar vivacity due to a lower mental energy. The difference
of effect resulting from difference of time in music, is also
attributable to the same law. Already it has been pointed
out that the more frequent changes of pitch which ordina-
rily result from passion, are imitated and developed in song j
and here we have to add, that the various rates of such
changes, appropriate to the different styles of music, are
further traits having the same derivation. The slowest
movements, largo and adagio, are used where such depress-
ing emotions as grief, or such unexciting emotions as rev-
erence, are to be portrayed ; while the more rapid move
ments, andante, allegro, presto, represent successively in-
creasing degrees of mental vivacity; and do this because
they imply that muscular activity which flows from this
mental vivacity. Even the rhythm, which forms a remain-
ing distinction between song and speech, may not improb-
ably have a kindred cause. Why the actions excited by
strong feeling should tend to become rhythmical, is not
very obvious ; but that they do so there are divers eviden-
ces. There is the swaying of the body to and fro under
pain or grief, of the leg under impatience or agitation.
Dancing, too, is a rhythmical action natural to elevated emo-
tion. That under excitement speech acquires a certain
rhythm, we may occasionally perceive in the highest efforts
of an orator. In poetry, which is a form of speech used
for the better expression of emotional ideas, we have this
rhythmical tendency developed. And when we bear in
mind that dancing, poetry, and music are connate — are ori-
ginally constituent parts of the same thing, it becomes
clear that the measured movement common to them all im-
plies a rhythmical action of the whole system, the vocal ap-
paratus included ; and that so the rhythm of music is a more
subtle and complex result of this relation between mental
and muscular excitement,

224 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

But it is time to end this analysis, which, possibly we
have already carried too far. It is not to be supposed that
the more special peculiarities of musical expression are to
be definitely explained. Though probably they may all in
some way conform to the principle that has been worked
cut, it is obviously impracticable to trace that principle in ita
more ramified applications. !N"or is it needful to our argu-
ment that it should be so traced. The foregoing facts
sufficiently prove that what we regard as the distinctive
traits of song, are simply the traits of emotional speech in-
tensified and systematized. In respect of its general char-
acteristics, we think it has been made clear that vocal mu-
sic, and by consequence all music, is an idealization of the
natural language of passion.

As far as it goes, the scanty evidence furnished by his-
tory confirms this conclusion. Note first the fact (not
properly an historical one, but fitly grouped with such)
that the dance-chants of savage tribes are very monoton-
ous ; and in virtue of their monotony are much more nearly
allied to ordinary speech than are the songs of civilized
races. Joining with this the fact that there are still extant
among boatmen and others in the East, ancient chants of a
like monotonous character, we may infer that vocal music
originally diverged from emotional speech in a gradual,
unobtrusive manner ; and this is the inference to which
our argument points. Further evidence to the same
effect is supplied by Greek history. The early poems of
the Greeks— which, be it remembered, were sacred le-
gends embodied in that rhythmical, metaphorical language
which strong feeling excites — were not recited, but chant-
ed : the tones and the cadences were made musical by the
same influences which made the speech poetical.

By those who have investigated the matter, this chant-
ing is believed to have been not what we call singing, but

DEVELOPMENT OF EMOTIONAL SPEECH. 225

nearly allied to our recitative ; (far simpler indeed, if we
may judge from the fact that the early Greek lyre, which
had but four strings, was played in unisoti with the voice,
which was therefore confined to four notes ; ) and as such,
much less remote from common speech than our own sing-
ing is. For recitative, or musical recitation, is in all re*»
pects intermediate between speech and song. Its average
effects are not so loud as those of song. Its tones are less
sonorous in timbre than those of song. Commonly it di-
verges to a smaller extent from the middle notes — uses
notes neither so high nor so low in pitch. The intervals
habitual to it are neither so wide nor so varied. Its rate
of variation is not so rapid. And at the same time that its
primary rhythm is less decided, it has none of that second-
ary rhythm produced by recurrence of the same or parallel
musical phrases, which is one of the marked character-
istics of song. Thus, then, we may not only infer, from
the evidence furnished by existing barbarous tribes, that
the vocal music of pre-historic times was emotional speech
very slightly exalted ; but we see that the earliest vocal
music of which we have any account, differed much less
from emotional speech than does the vocal music of our
days.

That recitative — beyond which, by the way, the Chinese
and Hindoos seem never to have advanced — grew naturally
out of the modulations and cadences of strong feeling, we
have indeed still current evidence. There are even now
to be met with occasions on which strong feeling vents
itself in this form. Whoever has been present when a
meeting of Quakers was addressed by one of their preach-
ers (whose practice it is to speak only under the influence
of religious emotion), must have been struck by the quite
unusual tones, like those of a subdued chant, in which the
address was made. It is clear, too, that the intoning used
in some churches, is representative of this same mental

226 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

state ; and has been adopted on account of the instinctively
felt congruity between it and the contrition, supplication
or reverence verbally expressed.

And if, as we have good reason to believe, recitative
arose by degrees out of emotional speech, it becomes mani-
fest that by a continuance of the same process song has
arisen out of recitative. Just as, from the orations and
legends of savages, expressed in the metaphorical, allegori-
cal style natural to them, there sprung epic poetry, out of
which lyric poetry was afterwards developed ; so, from the
exalted tones and cadences in which such orations and le-
gends were delivered, came the chant or recitative music,
from whence lyrical music has since grown up. And there
has not only thus been a simultaneous and parallel genesis,
but there is also a parallelism of results. For lyrical poetry
differs from epic poetry, just as lyrical music differs from
recitative : each still further intensifies the natural language
of the emotions. Lyrical poetry is more metaphorical,
more hyperbolic, more elliptical, and adds the rhythm of
lines to the rhythm of feet ; just as lyrical music is louder,
more sonorous, more extreme in its intervals, and adds the
rhythm of phrases to the rhythm of bars. And the known
fact that out of epic poetry the stronger passions developed
lyrical poetry as their appropriate vehicle, strengthens the
inference that they similarly developed lyrical music out of
recitative.

Nor indeed are we without evidences of the transition.
It needs but to listen to an opera to hear the leading gra-
dations. Between the comparatively level recitative of
ordinary dialogue, the more varied recitative with wider
intervals and higher tones used in exciting scenes, the
still more musical recitative which preludes an air, and
the air itself, the successive steps are but small; and
the fact that among airs themselves gradations of like
nature may be traced, further confirms the conclusion

SENSIBILITY OF MUSICAL COMPOSERS. 227

that the highest form of vocal music was arrived at by
degrees.

Moreover, we have some clue to the influences which
have induced this development; and may roughly conceive
the process of it. As the tones, intervals, and cadences of
strong emotion were the elements out of which song was
elaborated ; so, we may expect to find that still stronger
emotion produced the elaboration : and we have evidence
implying this. Instances in abundance may be cited, show-
ing that musical composers are men of extremely acute
sensibilities. The Life of Mozart depicts him as one of
intensely active affections and highly impressionable tem-
perament. Various anecdotes represent Beethoven as
very susceptible and very passionate. Mendelssohn is de-
scribed by those who knew him to have been full of line
feeling. And the almost incredible sensitiveness of Chopin
has been illustrated in the memoirs of George Sand. An
unusually emotional nature being thus the general charac-
teristic of musical composers, we have in it just the agency
required for the development of recitative and song. In-
tenser feeling producing intenser manifestations, any cause
of excitement will call forth from such a nature, tones and
changes of voice more marked than those called forth from
an ordinary nature— will generate just those exaggerations
which we have found to distinguish the lower vocal music
from emotional speech, and the higher vocal music from
the lower. Thus it becomes credible that the four-toned
recitative of the early Greek poets (like all poets, nearly
allied to composers in the comparative intensity of their
feelings), was really nothing more than the slightly ex-
aggerated emotional speech natural to them, which grew
by frequent use into an organized form. And it is readily
conceivable that the accumulated agency of subsequent
poet-musicians, inheriting and adding to the products
of those who went before them, sufficed, in the course of

228 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

the ten centuries which we know it took, to develope this
four-toned recitative into a vocal music having a range of
two octaves.

Not , only may we so understand how more sonorous
tones, greater extremes of pitch, and wider intervals, were
gradually introduced ; but also how there arose a greater
variety and complexity of musical expression. For this
same passionate, enthusiastic temperament, which naturally
leads the musical composer to express the feelings possessed
by others as well as himself, in extremer intervals and more
marked cadences than they would use, also leads him to
give musical utterance to feelings which they either do not
experience, or experience in but slight degrees. In virtue
of this general susceptibility which distinguishes him, he
regards with emotion, events, scenes, conduct, character,
which produce upon most men no appreciable effect. The
emotions so generated, compounded as they are of the sim-
pler emotions, are not expressible by intervals and cadences
natural to these, but by combinations of such intervals and
cadences : whence arise more involved musical phr&ses,
conveying more complex, subtle, and unusual feelings.
And thus we may in some measure understand how it hap-
pens that music not only so strongly excites our more
familiar feelings, but also produces feelings we never had
before — arouses dormant sentiments of which we had not
conceived the possibility and do not know the meaning ;
or, as Bichter says — tells us of things we have not seen and
shall not see.

Indirect evidences of several kinds remain to be briefly
pointed out. One of them is the difficulty, not to say im-
possibility, of otherwise accounting for the expressiveness
of music. Whence comes it that special combinations of
notes should have special effects upon our emotions ? — that
one should give us a feeling of exhilaration, another of

PHYSIOLOGICAL EXPLANATION OF MUSICAL EFFECTS. 229

melancholy, another of affection, another of reverence ?
Is it that these special combinations have intrinsic mean-
ings apart from the human constitution ? — that a certain
number of aerial waves per second, followed by a certain
other number, in the nature of things signify grief, while
in the reverse order they signify joy ; and similarly with
all other intervals, phrases, and cadences ? Few will be so
irrational as to think this. Is it, then, that the meanings
of these special combinations are conventional only ? — that
we learn their implications, as we do those of words, by
observing how others understand them ? This is an hy-
pothesis not only devoid of evidence, but directly opposed
to the experience of every one. How, then, are musical
effects to be explained ? If the theory above set forth be
accepted, the difficulty disappears. If music, taking for its
raw material the various modifications of voice which are
the physiological results of excited feeling, intensifies, com-
bines, and complicates them — if it exaggerates the loud-
ness, the resonance, the pitch, the intervals, and the varia-
bility, which, in virtue of an organic law, are the charac-
teristics of passionate speech — if, by carrying out these fur-
ther, more consistently, more unitedly, and more sus-
tainedly, it produces an idealized language of emotion ;
then its power over us becomes comprehensible. But in
the absence of this theory, the expressiveness of music ap-
pears to be inexplicable.

Again, the preference we feel for certain qualities of
sound presents a like difficulty, admitting only of a like
solution. It is generally agreed that the tones of the hu-
man voice are more pleasing than any others. Grant that
music takes its rise from the modulations of the human
voice under emotion, and it becomes a natural consequence
>that the tones of that voice should appeal to our feelings
more than any others ; and so should be considered more
beautiful than any others. But deny that music has this

230 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

origin, and the only alternative is the untenable position
that the vibrations proceeding from a vocalist's throat are,
objectively considered, of a higher order than those from a
horn or a violin. Similarly with harsh and soft sounds.
If the conclusiveness of the foregoing reasonings be not
admitted, it must be supposed that the vibrations causing
the last are intrinsically better than those causing the first ;
and that, in virtue of some pre-established harmony, the
higher feelings and natures produce the one, and the lower
the other. But if the foregoing reasonings be valid, it
follows, as a matter of course, that we shall like the
sounds that habitually accompany agreeable feelings, and
dislike those that habitually accompany disagreeable feel-
ings.

Once more, the question — How is the expressiveness of
music to be otherwise accounted for ? may be supplement-
ed by the question — How is the genesis of music to be
otherwise accounted for ? That music is a product of civ-
ilization is manifest ; for though savages have their dance-
chants, these are of a kind scarcely to be dignified by
the title musical : at most, they supply but the vaguest
rudiment of music, properly so called. And if music
has been by slow steps developed in the course of civili-
zation, it must have been developed out of something.
If, then, its origin is not that above alleged, what is its
origin ?

Thus we find that the negative evidence confirms the
positive, and that, taken together, they furnish strong
proof. We have seen that there is a physiological relation,
common to man and all animals, between feeling and mus-
cular action ; that as vocal sounds are produced by muscu-
lar action, there is a consequent physiological relation be-
tween feeling and vocal sounds ; that all the modifications
of voice expressive of feeling are the direct results of this
physiological relation ; that music, adopting all these modi

ITS INDIRECT BENEFITS AND PLEASURES. 231

fications, intensifies them more and more as it ascends to
its higher and higher forms, and becomes music simply in
virtue of thus intensifying them ; that, from the ancient
epic poet chanting his verses, down to the modern musical
composer, men of unusually strong feelings prone to express
them in extreme forms, have been naturally the agents of
these successive intensifications ; and that so there has
little by little arisen a wide divergence between this ideal-
ized language of emotion and its natural language : to
which direct evidence we have just added the indirect
— that on no other tenable hypothesis can either the
expressiveness or the genesis of music be explained.

And now, what is the function of music ? Has music
any effect beyond the immediate pleasure it produces ?
Analogy suggests that it has. The enjoyments of a good
dinner do not end with themselves, but minister to bodily
well-being. Though people do not marry with a view to
maintain the race, yet the passions which impel them to
marry secure its maintenance. Parental affection is a feel-
ing which, while it conduces to parental happiness, ensures
the nurture of offspring. Men love to accumulate property,
often without thought of the benefits it produces ; but in
pursuing the pleasure of acquisition they indirectly open the
way to other pleasures. The wish for public approval im-
pels all of us to do many things which we should otherwise
not do, — to undertake great labours, face great dangers,
and habitually rule ourselves in a way that smooths social
intercourse : that is, in gratifying our love of approbation
we subserve divers ulterior purposes. And, generally, our
nature is such that in fulfilling each desire, we in some way
facilitate the fulfilment of the rest. But the love of music
aeems to exist for its own sake. The delights of melody
and harmony do not obviously minister to the welfare
either of the individual or of society. May we not suspect,

232 THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

however, that this exception is apparent only ? Is it not
a rational inquiry — What are the indirect benefits which
accrue from music, in addition to the direct pleasure it
gives ?

But that it would take us too far out of our track, we
should prelude this inquiry by illustrating at some length &
certain general law of progress ; — the law that alike in oc-
cupations, sciences, arts, the divisions that had a common
root, but by continual divergence have become distinct,
and are now being separately developed, are not truly in-
dependent, but severally act and react on each other to
their mutual advancement. Merely hinting thus much,
however, by way of showing that there are many analogies
to justify us, we go on to express the opinion that there
exists a relationship of this kind between music and
speech.

All speech is compounded of two elements, the words
and the tones in which they are uttered — the signs of ideas
and the signs of feelings. While certain articulations ex-
press the thought, certain vocal sounds express the more
or less of pain or pleasure which the thought gives. Using
the word cadence in an unusually extended sense, as com-
prehending all modifications of voice, we may say that
cadence is the commentary of the emotions upon the propo-
sitions of the intellect. This duality of spoken language,
though not formally recognised, is recognised in practice
by every one ; and every one knows that very often more
weight attaches to the tones than to the words. Daily ex-
perience supplies cases in which the same sentence of dis-
approval will be understood as meaning little or meaning
much, according to the inflections of voice which accom-
pany it ; and daily experience supplies still more striking
cases in which words and tones are in direct contradiction
—the first expressing consent, while the last express reluc-
tance ; and the last being believed rather than the first.

IT DEVELOPES THE LANGUAGE OF THE EMOTIONS. 233

These two distinct but interwoven elements of speech
have been undergoing a simultaneous development. Wq
know that in the course of civilization words have been
multiplied, new parts of speech have been introduced, sen-
tences have grown more varied and complex ; and we may
fairly infer that during the same time new modifications of
voice have come into use, fresh intervals have been adopt-
ed, and cadences have become more elaborate. For while,
on the one hand, it is absurd to suppose that, along with
the undeveloped verbal forms of barbarism, there existed
a developed system of vocal inflections ; it is, on the other
hand, necessary to suppose that, along with the higher and
more numerous verbal forms needed to convey the multi-
plied and complicated ideas of civilized life, there have
grown up those more involved changes of voice which ex-
press the feelings proper to such ideas. If intellectual lan-
guage is a growth, so also, without doubt, is emotional lan-
guage a growth.

Now, the hypothesis which we have hinted above, is,
that beyond the direct pleasure which it gives, music has
the indirect effect of developing this language of the emo-
tions. Having its root, as we have endeavoured to show,
in those tones, intervals, and cadences of speech which ex-
press feeling — arising by the combination and intensifying
of these, and* coming finally to have an embodiment of its
own ; music has all along been reacting upon speech, and
increasing its power of rendering emotion. The use in re-
citative and song of inflections more expressive than ordi-
nary ones, must from the beginning have tended to devel-
ope the ordinary ones. Familiarity with the more varied
combinations of tones that occur in vocal music, can
scarcely have failed to give greater variety of combination
to the tones in which we utter our impressions and desires.
The complex musical phrases by which composers have
conveyed complex emotions, may rationally be supposed to

234 THE 0BIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

have influenced us in making those involved cadences of
conversation by which we convey our subtler thoughts and
feelings.

That the cultivation of music has no effect on the mind,
few will be absurd enough to contend. And if it has an
effect, what more natural effect is there than this of devel-
oping our perception of the meanings of inflections, quali-
ties, and modulations of voice ; and giving us a corres-
pondingly increased power of using them ? Just as mathe-
matics, taking its start from the phenomena of physics
and astronomy, and presently coming to be a separate sci-
ence, has since reacted on physics and astronomy to their
immense advancement — -just as chemistry, first arising out,
of the processes of metallurgy and the industrial arts, and
gradually growing into an independent study, has now be-
come an aid to all kinds of production — just as physiology,
originating out of medicine and once subordinate to it, but
latterly pursued for its own sake, is in our day coming to
be the science on which the progress of medicine depends ;
— so, music, having its root in emotional language, and
gradually evolved from it, has ever been reacting upon and
further advancing it. Whoever will examine the facts, will
find this hypothesis to be in harmony with the method of
civilization everywhere displayed.

It will scarcely be expected that much direct evidence
in support of this conclusion can be given. The facts are
of a kind which it is difficult to measure, and of which we
have no records. Some suggestive traits, however, may
be noted. May we not say, for instance, that the Italians,
among whom modern music was earliest cultivated, and
who have more especially practised and excelled in melody
(the division of music with which our argument is chiefly
concerned) — may we not say that these Italians speak in
more varied and expressive inflections and cadences than
any other nation ? On the other hand, may we not say

IMPORTANCE OF EMOTIONAL LANGUAGE. 235

that, confined almost exclusively as they have hitherto
been to their national airs, which have a marked family
likeness, and therefore accustomed to but a limited range
of musical expression, the Scotch are unusually monotonous
in the intervals and modulations of their speech ? And
again, do we not find among different classes of the same
nation, differences that have like implications ? The gen-
tleman and the clown stand in very decided contrast with
respect to variety of intonation. Listen to the conversa-
tion of a servant-girl, and then to that of a refined, accom-
plished lady, and the more delicate and complex changes
of voice used by the latter will be conspicuous. Now,
without going so far as to say that out of all the differences
of culture to which the upper and lower classes are sub-
jected, difference of musical culture is that to which alone
this difference of speech is ascribable ; yet we may fairly
say that there seems a much more obvious connexion of
cause and effect between these than between any others.
Thus, while the inductive evidence to which we can appeal
is but scanty and vague, yet what there is favours our posi-
tion.

Probably most will think that the function here assigned
to music is one of very little moment. But further reflec-
tion may lead them to a contrary conviction. In its bear-
ings upon human happiness, we believe that this emotional
language which musical culture developes and refines, is
only second in importance to the language of the intellect ;
perhaps not even second to it. For these modifications
of voice produced by feelings, are the means of exciting
like feelings in others. Joined with gestures and expres-
sions of face, they give life to the otherwise dead words in
which the intellect utters its ideas ; and so enable the
hearer not only to understand the state of mind they ac-
company, but to partake of that state. In short, they are

#36 THE OEIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

the chief media of sympathy. And if we consider how
much both our general welfare and our immediate pleas-
ures depend upon sympathy, we shall recognise the import-
ance of whatever makes this sympathy greater. If we
bear in mind that by tneir fellow-feeling men are led to be-
have justly, kindly and considerately to each other — -that
the difference between the cruelty of the barbarous and
the humanity of the civilized, results from the increase of
fellow-feeling ; if we bear in mind that this faculty which
makes us sharers in the joys and sorrows of others, is the
basis of all the higher affections — that in friendship, love,
and all domestic pleasures, it is an essential element ; if we
bear in mind how much our direct gratifications are inten-
sified by sympathy, — how, at the theatre, the concert, the
picture gallery, we lose half our enjoyment if we have no
one to enjoy with us ; if, in short, we bear in mind that for
all happiness beyond what the unfriended recluse can have,
we are indebted to this same sympathy ; — we shall see that
the agencies which communicate it can scarcely be over-
rated in value.

The tendency of civilization is more and more to re-
press the antagonistic elements of our characters and to
develope the social ones — to curb our purely selfish desires
and exercise our unselfish ones — to replace private gratifi-
cations by gratifications resulting from, or involving, the
happiness of others. And while, by this adaptation to the
social state, the sympathetic side of our nature is being un-
folded, there is simultaneously growing up a language of
sympathetic intercourse — a language through which we
communicate to others the happiness we feel, and are made
sharers in their happiness.

This double process, of which the effects are already
sufficiently appreciable, must go on to an extent of which
we can as yet have no adequate conception. The habitual
concealment of our feelings diminishing, as it must, in pro*

FUTURE GROWTH OF EMOTIONAL LANGUAGE. 237

portion as our feelings become such as do not demand con-
cealment, we may conclude that the exhibition of them will
become much more vivid than we now dare allow it to be ;
and this implies a more expressive emotional language.
At the same time, feelings of a higher and more complex
kind, as yet experienced only by the cultivated few, will
become general ; and there will be a corresponding devel-
opment of the emotional language into more involved
forms. Just as there has silently grown up a language of
ideas, which, rude as it at first was, now enables us to con-
vey with precision the most subtle and complicated
thoughts ; so, there is still silently growing up a language
of feelings, which notwithstanding its present imperfection,
we may expect will ultimately enable men vividly and com-
pletely to impress on each other all the emotions which
they experience from moment to moment.

Thus if, as we have endeavoured to show, it is the func-
tion of music to facilitate the development of this emo-
tional language, we may regard music as an aid to the
achievement of that higher happiness which it indistinctly
shadows forth. Those vague feelings of unexperienced fe-
licity which music arouses — those indefinite impressions of
an unknown ideal life which it calls up, may be considered
as a prophecy, to the fulfilment of which music is itself
partly instrumental. The strange capacity which we have
for being so affected by melody and harmony, may be taken
to imply both that it is within the possibilities of our na-
ture to realize those intenser delights they dimly suggest,
and that they are in some way concerned in the realization
of them. On this supposition the power and the meaning
of music become comprehensible ; but otherwise they are
a mystery.

We will only add, that if the probability of these corol-
laries be admitted, then music must take rank as the high-
est of the fine arts — as the one which, more than any other,

238 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC.

ministers to human welfare. And thus, even leaving out
of view the immediate gratifications it is hourly giving,
we cannot too much applaud that progress of musical cul-
ture which is becoming one of the characteristics of oui
age.

VL

THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

INQUIRING into the pedigree of an idea is not a bad
means of roughly estimating its value. To have come of
respectable ancestry, is primti facie evidence of worth in a
belief as in a person ; while to be descended from a discred-
itable stock is, in the one case as in the other, an unfavora-
ble index. The analogy is not a mere fancy. Beliefs, to-
gether with those who hold them, are modified little by lit-
tle in successive generations; and as the modifications
which successive generations of the holders undergo, do
not destroy the original type, but only disguise and refine
it, so the accompanying alterations of belief, however much
they purify, leave behind the essence of the original belief.
Considered genealogically, the received theory respecting
the creation of the Solar System is unmistakeably of low
origin. You may clearly trace it back to primitive mythol-
ogies. Its remotest ancestor is the doctrine that the celes-
tial bodies are personages who originally lived on the Earth
— a doctrine still held by some of the negroes Livingstone
visited. Science having divested the sun and planets of
their divine personalities, this old idea was succeeded by
the idea which even Kepler entertained, that the planets
are guided in their courses by presiding spirits : no longer
12

240 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

themselves gods, they are still severally kept in their orbits by
gods. And when gravitation came to dispense with these ce-
lestial steersmen, there was begotten a belief, less gross than
its parent, but partaking of the same essential nature, that
the planets were originally launched into their orbits from
the Creator's hand. Evidently, though much refined, the an-
thropomorphism of the current hypothesis is inherited from
the aboriginal anthropomorphism, which described gods as
a stronger order of men.

There is an antagonist hypothesis which does not pro-
pose to houour the Unknown Power manifested in the Uni-
verse, by such titles as "The Master-Builder," or "The
Great Artificer ; " but which regards this Unknown Power
as probably working after a method quite different from
that of human mechanics. And the genealogy of this hy-
pothesis is as high as that of the other is low. It is begot-
ten by that ever- enlarging and ever-strengthening belief in
the presence of Law, which accumulated experiences have
gradually produced in the human mind. From generation
to generation Science has been proving uniformities of re-
lation among phenomena which were before thought either
fortuitous or supernatural in their origin — has been showing
an established order and a constant causation where igno-
rance had assumed irregularity and arbitrariness. Each fur-
ther discovery of Law has increased the presumption that
Law is everywhere conformed to. And hence, among
other beliefs, has arisen the belief that the Solar System
originated, not by manufacture but by evolution. Besides
its abstract parentage in those grand general conceptions
which positive Science has generated, this hypothesis has a
concrete parentage of the highest character. Based as it
is on the law of universal gravitation, it may claim for its
remote progenitor the great thinker who established that
law. The man who gave it its general shape, by promulga-
ting the doctrine that stars result from the aggregation of

ITS HIGH DERIVATION. 241

diffused matter, was the most diligent, careful, and original
astronomical observer of modern times. And the world
has not seen a more learned mathematician than the man
who, setting out with this conception of diffused matter
concentrating towards its centre of gravity, pointed out
the way in which there would arise, in the course of
its concentration, a balanced group of sun, planets, and
satellites, like that of which the Earth is a member.

Thus, even were there but little direct evidence assign-
able for the Nebular Hypothesis, the probability of its
truth would still be strong. Its own high derivation and
the low derivation of the antagonist hypothesis, would to-
gether form a weighty reason for accepting it — at any rate,
provisionally. But the direct evidence assignable for the
Nebular Hypothesis is by no means little. It is far greater
in quantity, and more varied in kind, than is commonly
supposed. Much has been said here and there on this or that
class of evidences ; but nowhere, as far as we know, have
all the evidences, even of one class, been fully stated ; and
still less has there been an adequate statement of the sev-
eral groups of evidences in their ensemble. We propose
here to do something towards supplying the deficiency:
believing that, joined with the a priori reasons given above,
the array of a posteriori reasons will leave little doubt in
the mind of any candid inquirer.

And first, let us address ourselves to those recent dis-
coveries in stellar astronomy, which have been supposed to
conflict with this celebrated speculation.

When Sir William Herschel, directing his great reflec-
tor to various nebulous spots, found them resolvable into
clusters of stars, he inferred, and for a time maintained,
that all nebulous spots are clusters of stars exceedingly re-
mote from us. But after years of conscientious investiga-
tion, he concluded that " there were nebulosities which are

242 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

not of a starry nature ; " and on this conclusion was based
his hypothesis of a diffused luminous fluid, which by its
eventual aggregation, produced stars. A telescopic pow-
er much exceeding that used by Herschel, has enabled
Lord Rosse to resolve some of the nebulae previously un-
resolved ; and, returning to the conclusion which Herschel
first formed on similar grounds but afterwards rejected,
many astronomers have assumed that, under sufficiently
high powers, every nebula would be decomposed into stars
— that the resolvability is solely a question of distance. The
hypothesis now commonly entertained is, that all nebulae
are galaxies more or less like in nature to that immediately
surrounding us ; but that they are so inconceivably re-
mote, as to look, through an ordinary telescope, like small
faint spots. And not a few have drawn the corollary, that
by the discoveries of Lord Rosse the Nebular Hypothesis
has been disproved.

Now, even supposing that these inferences respecting
the distances and natures of the nebulae are valid, they leave
the Nebular Hypothesis substantially as it was. Admit-
ting that .each of those faint spots is a sidereal system, so
far removed that its countless stars give less light than
one small star of our own sidereal system ; the admission
is in no way inconsistent with the belief, that stars and their
attendant planets have been formed by the aggregation of
nebulous matter. Though, doubtless, if the existence of
nebulous matter now in course of concentration be dis-
proved, one of the evidences of the Nebular Hypothesis is
destroyed ; yet the remaining evidences remain just as they
were. It is a perfectly tenable position, that though nebu-
lar condensation is now nowhere to be seen in progress, yet
it was once going on universally. And, indeed, it might
be argued that the still-continued existence of diffused
nebulous matter is scarcely to be expected ; seeing that
the causes which have resulted in the aggregation of one

THE CONDENSED NEBULOUS MATTER. 243

mass, must have been acting on all masses, and that hence
the existence of masses not aggregated would be a fact
calling for explanation. Thus, granting the immediate
conclusions suggested by these recent disclosures of the
six-feet reflector, the corollary which many have drawn is
inadmissible.

But we do not grant these conclusions. Receiving them
though we have, for years past, as established truths, a
critical examination of the facts has convinced us that they
are quite unwarrantable. They involve so many manifest
incongruities, that we have been astonished to find men of
science entertaining them even as probable hypotheses.
Let us consider these incongruities.

In the first place, mark what is inferable from the dis-
tribution of nebulae.

" The spaces which precede or which follow simple nebulae,"
says Arago, " and, d fortiori, groups of nebulae, contain generally
few stars. Herschel found this rule to be invariable. Thus,
every time that, during a short interval, no star approached, in
virtue of the diurnal motion, to place itself in the field of his mo-
tionless telescope, he was accustomed to say to the secretary who
assisted him, * Prepare to write ; nebulae are about to arrive.' "

How does this fact consist with the hypothesis that ne-
bulae are remote galaxies ? If there were but one nebula,
it would be a curious coincidence were this one nebula so
placed in the distant regions of space, as to agree in direc-
tion with a starless spot in our own sidereal system. If
there were but two nebulae, and both were so placed, the
coincidence would be excessively strange. What, then,
shall we say on finding that there are thousands of nebulae
so placed ? Shall we believe that in thousands of cases
these far-removed galaxies happen to agree in their visible
positions with the thin places in our own galaxy ? Such a
belief is next to impossible. Still more manifest does the
impossibility of it become when we consider the general

244 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

distribution of nebulae. Besides again showing itself in
the fact that " the poorest regions in stars are near the rich-
est in nebulae," the law above specified applies to the heav-
ens as a whole. In that zone of celestial space where stars
are excessively abundant, nebulse are rare ; while in the two
opposite celestial spaces that are furthest removed from this
zone, nebulse are abundant. Scarcely any nebulae lie near
the galactic circle (or plane of the Milky Way) ; and the
great mass of them lie round the galactic poles. Can this
also be mere coincidence ? When to the fact that the gen-
eral mass of nebulae are antithetical in position to the gen-
eral mass of stars, we add the fact that local regions of ne-
bulae are regions where stars are scarce, and the further
fact that single nebulae are habitually found in comparative-
ly starless spots ; does not the proof of a physical connex-
ion become overwhelming ? Should it not require an in-
finity of evidence to show that nebulae are not parts of our
sidereal system ? Let us see whether any such infinity of
evidence is assignable. Let us see whether there is even a
single alleged proof which will bear examination.

" As seen through colossal telescopes," says Humboldt, "the
contemplation of these nebulous masses leads us into regions from
whence a ray of light, according to an assumption not wholly im-
probable, requires millions of years to reach our earth — to dis-
tances for whose measurement the dimensions (the distance of
Sirius, or the calculated distances of the binary stars in Cygnus
and the Centaur) of our nearest stratum of fixed stars scarcely
suffice. "

Now, in this somewhat confused sentence there is ex-
pressed a more or less decided belief, that the distances of
the nebulae from our galaxy of stars as much transcend the
distances of our stars from each other, as these interstellar
distances transcend the dimensions of our planetary system.
Just as the diameter of the Earth's orbit, is an inapprecia-

THE CONDENSED NEBULOUS MATTER. 245

ble point when compared with the distance of our Sun from
Sirius ; so is the distance of our Sun from Sirius, an inap-
preciable point when compared with the distance of our
galaxy from those far removed galaxies constituting nebulae
Observe the consequences of this assumption.

If one of these supposed galaxies is so remote that ita
distance dwarfs our interstellar spaces into points, and there-
fore makes the dimensions of our whole sidereal system re-
latively insignificant ; does it not inevitably follow that the
telescopic power required to resolve this remote galaxy into
stars, must be incomparably greater than the telescopic
power required to resolve the whole of our own galaxy
into stars ? Is it not certain that an instrument which can
just exhibit with clearness the most distant stars of our own
cluster, must be utterly unable to separate one of these re-
mote clusters into stars ? What, then, are we to think
when we find that the same instrument which decomposes
hosts of nebulae into stars, fails to resolve completely our
own Milky "Way ? Take a homely comparison. Suppose
a man surrounded by a swarm of bees, extending, as they
sometimes do, so high in the air as to be individually almost
invisible, were to declare that a certain spot on the horizon
was a swarm of bees; and that he knew it because he could
see the bees as separate specks. Astounding as the asser-
tion would be, it would not exceed in incredibility this which
we are criticising. Reduce the dimensions to figures, and
the absurdity becomes still more palpable. In round num-
bers, the distance of Sirius from the Earth is a million times
the distance of the Earth from the Sun; and, according to
the hypothesis, the distance of a nebula is something like a
million times the distance of Sirius.

Now, our own " starry island, or nebula," as Humboldt
calls it, " forms a lens-shaped, flattened, and everywhere
detached stratum, whose major axis is estimated at seven
or eight hundred, and its minor axis at a hundred and fifty

246 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

times the distance of Sirius from the Earth."* And since
it is concluded that our Solar System is near the centre of
this aggregation, it follows that our distance from the re-
motest parts of it is about four hundred distances of Sirius.
But the stars forming these remotest parts are not individ-
ually visible, even through telescopes of the highest power.
How, then, can such telescopes make individually visible
the stars of a nebula which is a million times the distance
of Sirius ? The implication is, that a star rendered invisi-
ble by distance becomes visible if taken two thousand five
hundred times further off! Shall we accept this implica-
tion ? or shall we not rather conclude that the nebulae are
not remote galaxies ? Shall we not infer that, be their na-
ture what it may, they must be at least as near to us as the
extremities of our own sidereal system ?

Throughout the above argument, it is tacitly assumed
that differences of apparent magnitude among the stars,
result mainly from differences of distance. On this as-
sumption the current doctrines respecting the nebulae are
founded ; and this assumption is, for the nonce, admitted
in each of the foregoing criticisms. From the time, how-
ever, when it was first made by Sir W. Herschel, this as-
sumption has been purely gratuitous ; and it now proves
to be totally inadmissible. But, awkwardly enough, its
truth and its untruth are alike fatal to the conclusions of
those who argue after the manner of Humboldt. Note the
alternative.

On the one hand, what follows from the untruth of the
assumption? If apparent largeness of stars is not due to
comparative nearness, and their successively smaller sizes
to their greater and greater degrees of remoteness, what
becomes of the inferences respecting the dimensions of our
sidereal system and the distances of nebulae ? If, as has

* Cosmos. (Seventh Edition.) Vol. i. pp. 79, 80.

MAGNITUDES AND DISTANCES OF STARS. 24:7

lately been shown, the almost invisible star 61 Cygni has a
greater parallax than a Cygni, though, according to an es-
timate based on Sir W. Herschel's assumption, it should be
about twelve times more distant — if, as it turns out, there
exist telescopic stars which are nearer to us than Sirius ; oi
what worth is the conclusion that the nebulae are very re
mote, because their component luminous masses are made
visible only by high telescopic powers ? Clearly, if the
most brilliant star in the heavens and a star that cannot be
seen by the naked eye, prove to be equidistant, relative
distances cannot be in the least inferred from relative visi-
bilities. And if so, nebulae may be comparatively near,
though the starlets of which they are made up appear ex-
tremely minute.

On the other ham. what follows if the truth of the as-
sumption be granted t The arguments used to justify this
assumption in the case of the stars, equally justify it in the
case of the nebulae. It cannot be contended that, on the
average, the apparent sizes of the stars indicate their dis-
tances, without its being admitted that, on the average, the
apparent sizes of the nebulae indicate their distances — that,
generally speaking, the larger are the nearer, and the
smaller are the more distant. Mark, now, the necessary
inference respecting their resolvability. The largest or
nearest nebulae will be most easily resolved into stars ; the
successively smaller will be successively more difficult of
resolution ; and the irresolvable ones will be the smallest
ones. This, however, is exactly the reverse of the fact.
The largest nebulae are either wholly irresolvable, or but
partially resolvable under the highest telescopic powers ;
while a great proportion of quite small nebulae, are easily
resolved by far less powerful telescopes. An instrument
through which the great nebula in Andromeda, two and a
half degrees long and one degree broad, appears merely ai
a diffused light, decomposes a nebula of fifteen minutes di-

248 THE NEBULAR HrPOTHESIS.

ameter into twenty thousand starry points, At the same
time that the individual stars of a nebula eight minutes in
diameter are so clearly seen as to allow of their number
being estimated, a nebula covering an area five hundred
times as great shows no stars at all. What possible expla-
nation can be given of this on the current hypothesis ?

Yet a further difficulty remains — one which is, perhaps,
still more obviously fatal than the foregoing. This diffi-
culty is presented by the phenomena of the Magellanic
clouds. Describing the larger of these, Sir John Herschel
says : —

" The nubecula major, like the minor, consists partly of large
tracts and ill-defined patches of irresolvable nebula, and of nebu-
losity in every stage of resolution, up to perfectly resolved stars
like the Milky "Way ; as also of regular and irregular nebulae prop-
erly so called, of globular clusters in every stage of resolvability,
and of clustering groups sufficiently insulated and condensed to
come under the designation of ' cluster of stars.' " — " Cape Ob-
servations,1' p. 146.

In his " Outlines of Astronomy," Sir John Herschel, af-
ter repeating this description in other words, goes on to
remark that —

" This combination of characters, rightly considered, is In a
high degree instructive, affording an insight into the probable
comparative distance of stars and nebulce, and the real brightness
of individual stars as compared with one another. Taking the
apparent semi-diameter of the nubecula major at three degrees,
and regarding its solid form as, roughly speaking, spherical, its
nearest and most remote parts differ in their distance from us by
a little more than a tenth part of our distance from its centre.
The brightness of objects situated in its nearer portions, there-
fore, cannot be much exaggerated, nor that of its remoter much
enfeebled, by their difference of distance. Yet within this globu-
lar space we have collected upwards of six hundred stars of the
seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth magnitude, nearly three hundred

NEBULAE NO MORE REMOTE THAN STARS. 249

nebulae, and globular and other clusters of all degrees of resoha*
bility, and smaller scattered stars of every inferior magnitude,
from the tenth to such as by their magnitude and minuteness con-
stitute irresolvable nebulosity, extending over tracts of many
square degrees. "Were there but one such object, it might bo
maintained without utter improbability that its apparent spheri-
city is only an effect of foreshortening, and that in reality a much
greater proportional difference of distance between its nearer and
more remote parts exists. But such an adjustment, improbable
enough in one case, must be rejected as too much so for fair argu-
ment in two. It must, therefore, be taken as a demonstrated fact,
that stars of the seventh or eighth magnitude, and irresolvable
nebula, may co-exist within limits of distance not differing in pro-
portion more than as nine to ten." — " Outlines of Astronomy,"
pp. 614, 615.

Now, we think this supplies a reductio ad absurdum
of the doctrine we are combating. It gives us the choice
of two incredibilities. If we are to believe that one of
these nebulae is so remote that its hundred thousand stars
look like a milky spot, invisible to the naked eye ; we must
also believe that there are single stars so enormous that
though removed to this same distance they remain visible.
If we accept the other alternative, and say that many neb-
ulae are no further off than our own stars of the eighth
magnitude ; then it is requisite to say that at a distance not
greater than that at which a single star is still faintly visi-
ble to the naked eye, there may exist a group of a hundred
thousand stars which is invisible to the naked eye. Neither
of these positions can be entertained. What, then, is the
conclusion that remains ? This, only : — that the nebulae
are not further off from us than parts of our own sidereal
system, of which they must be considered members ; and
that when they are resolvable into discrete masses, these
masses cannot be considered as stars in anything like the
ordinary sense of that word.

And now, having seen the untenability of this idea,

250 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

rashly espoused by sundry astronomers, that the nebulae
are extremely remote galaxies ; let us consider whethej
the various appearances they present are not reconcile
able with the Nebular Hypothesis.

Given a rare and widely-diffused mass of nebulous mat-
ter, having a diameter, say as great as the distance from
the Sun to Sirius,* what are the successive changes that
will take place in it ? Mutual gravitation will approxi
mate its atoms ; but their approximation will be opposed
by atomic repulsion, the overcoming of which implies the
evolution of heat. As fast as this heat partially escapes by
radiation, further approximation will take place, attended
by further evolution of heat, and so on continuously : the
processes not occurring separately as here described, but
simultaneously, uninterruptedly, and with increasing ac-
tivity. Eventually, this slow movement of the atoms to-
wards their common centre of gravity, will bring about
phenomena of another order.

Arguing from the known laws of atomic combination,
it will happen that when the nebulous mass has reached a
particular stage of condensation — when its internally-situa-
ted atoms have approached to within certain distances,
have generated a certain amount of heat, and are subject
to a certain mutual pressure (the heat and pressure both
increasing as the aggregation progresses) ; some of them
will suddenly enter into chemical union. Whether the
binary atoms so produced be of kinds such as we know,
which is possible ; or whether they be of kinds simpler
thir: any we know, which is more probable ; matters not
to the argument. It suffices that molecular combination
of some species will finally take place. When it does take

* Any objection made to the extreme tenuity this involves, is met by
the calculation of Newton, who proved that were a spherical inch of aii
removed four thousand miles from the Earth, it would expand into a
sphere more than filling the orbit of Saturn.

CONDITIONS OF CONDENSATION. 251

place, it will be accompanied by a great and sudden disen-
gagement of heat ; and until this excess of heat has
escaped, the newly-formed binary atoms will remain uni-
formly diffused, or, as it were, dissolved in the pre-existing
nebulous medium.

But now mark what must happen. When radiation has
adequately lowered the temperature, these binary atoms will
precipitate ; and having precipitated, they will not remain
uniformly diffused, but will aggregate into flocculi : as water,
precipitated from air, forms clouds.

Concluding, then, that a nebulous mass will, in course
of time, resolve itself into flocculi of precipitated denser
matter, floating in the rarer medium from which they were
precipitated, let us inquire what will be the mechanical
results. Masses dispersed through empty space, and moving
to their common centre of gravity in lines determined solely
by their mutual attractions, will not produce any axial
motion in the aggregate they form. But what will happen
with irregularly dispersed masses of irregular shapes when
they are suspended in a medium which is denser near
its central parts than near its periphery ? Their motions of
concentration will be subject to deviations caused by local
mutual attractions (which taking the whole aggregate, must
cancel one another) ; but they will also be subject to devia-
tions otherwise produced which will not necessarily cancel
one another. Their initial movements, made in all cases
indirect, both by local attractions, and by the unequal pres-
sures of the resisting medium on their irregular faces as they
pass through it, will always be towards one or other side of
the common centre of gravity of the aggregate. What now
must result when a flocculus, having such oblique movement,
encounters in its progress a medium that is always denser
on the side towards the centre of gravity than on the side
away from it ? There must perpetually be caused a deflec-
tion by the difference of pressure : beyond that indirect-

252 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

ness in the line of movement produced by local attractions
there will be a further indirectness produced by the un-
equal reactions of the medium ; and there is no reason for
supposing that this must be equalled by opposite indirect-
nesses elsewhere. All such secondary indirectnesses, con-
sidered apart from those produced by gravitation, will tend
to bring the concentrating flocculi to one or other side
of the common centre of gravity ; and parts of their
acquired velocities, as they approach the common centre
of gravity, will thus be resolved into motions round the
common centre of gravity. If a tangential force acting on
mass having some cohesion, must produce some rotation ;
then some rotation must be produced by a flocculus pene-
trating obliquely a medium increasing in density towards its
centre. Clearly, however, their respective movements will
be deflected, not towards the side of the common centre of
gravity, but towards various sides. How then can there
result a general movement of them in the same direction ?
Very simply. Each flocculus, in describing its spiral course,
must give motion to the rarer medium through which it is
moving. Now, the probabilities are infinity to one against
all the respective motions thus impressed on this rarer me-
dium, balancing one another. And if they do not balance
one another, the inevitable result must be a rotation of
the whole mass of the rarer medium in one direction. But
preponderating momentum in one direction, having caused
rotation of the medium in that direction, the rotating me-
dium must in its turn gradually arrest such flocculi as are
moving in opposition, and impress its own motion upon
them ; and thus there will ultimately be formed a rotating
medium with suspended flocculi partaking of its motion.

Before comparing these conclusions with the facts, let
us pursue the reasoning a little further, and observe the
subordinate actions, and the endless modifications which
will result from them. The respective flocculi must not
only be drawn towards their common centre of gravity,

INITIAL MOTION OF NEBULOUS MATTER. 253

but also towards neighbouring flocculi. Hence the whole
assemblage of flocculi will break up into subordinate
groups : each group concentrating towards its local centre
of gravity, and in so doing acquiring a vortical movement,
like that subsequently acquired by the whole nebula.
Now, according to circumstances, and chiefly according to
the size of the original nebulous mass, this process of local
aggregation will produce various results. If -the whole
nebula is but small, the local groups of flocculi may be
drawn into the common centre of gravity before their con-
stituent masses have coalesced with each other. In a
larger nebula, these local aggregations may have concen-
trated into rotating spheroids of vapour, while yet they
have made but little approach towards the general focus of
the system. In a still larger nebula, where the local aggre-
gations are both greater and more remote from the com-
mon centre of gravity, they may have condensed into
masses of molten matter before the general distribution of
them has greatly altered. In short, as the conditions in
each case determine, the discrete masses produced may
vary indefinitely in number, in size, in density, in motion,
in distribution.

And now let us return to the visible characters
of the nebulae, as observed through modern telescopes.
Take first the description of those nebulas which, by the
hypothesis, must be in an early stage of evolution.

" Among the irregular nebula" says Sir John Herschel, " may
oe comprehended all which, to a want of complete, and in most
instances, even of partial resolvaoility by the power of the 20-feet
reflector, unite such a deviation from the circular or elliptic form,
or such a want of symmetry (with that form) as preclude their
being placed in Class 1, or that of regular nebulas. This second
class comprises many of the most remarkable and interesting ob-
jects in the heavens, as well as the most extensive in respect of the
area they occupy.''''

254: THE NEBULAE HrVOTHESIS.

And, referring to this same order of objects, M. Arago
says : — " The forms of very large diffuse nebulae do
not appear to admit of definition ; they have no regular
outline."

Now this coexistence of largeness, . irresolvability,
irregularity, and indefiniteness of outline, is extremely
significant. The fact that the largest nebulae are either
irresolvable or very difficult to resolve, might have been
inferred & priori y seeing that irresolvability, implying that
the aggregation of precipitated matter has gone on to but
a small extent, will be found in nebulae of wide diffusion.
Again, the irregularity of these large, irresolvable nebulae,
might also have been expected ; seeing that their out-
lines, compared by Arago to " the fantastic figures which
characterize clouds carried away and tossed about by
violent and often contrary winds," are similarly charac-
teristic Of a mass not yet gathered together by the
mutual attraction of its parts. And once more, the fact
that these large, irregular, irresolvable nebulae have
indefinite outlines — outlines that fade off insensibly into
surrounding darkness — is one of like meaning.

Speaking generally (and of course differences of dis-
tance negative anything beyond an average statement), the
spiral nebulae are smaller than the irregular nebulae, and
more resolvable ; at the same time that they are not so
small as the regular nebulae, and not so resolvable. This is
as, according to the hypothesis, it should be. The degree of
condensation causing spiral movement, is a degree of con-
densation also implying masses of flocculi that are larger,
and therefore more visible, than those existing in an earliei
stage. Moreover, the forms of these spiral nebulae are
quite in harmony with the explanation given. The curves
of luminous matter which they exhibit, are not such aa
would be described by more or less discrete masses start-
ing from a state of rest, and moving through a resisting

STRUCTURE OF SPIRAL NEBULJE. 255

medium to a common centre of gravity ; but they are such
as would be described by masses having their movements
modified by the rotation of the medium.

In the centre of a spiral nebula is seen a mass both
more luminous and more resolvable than the rest. As-
sume that, in process of time, all the spiral streaks of
luminous matter which converge to this centre are drawn
into it, as they must be ; assume further, that the flocculi
or other discrete bodies constituting these luminous streaks
aggregate into larger masses at the same time that they
approach the central group, and that the masses forming
this central group also aggregate into larger masses (both
which are necessary assumptions) ; and there will finally
result a more or less globular group of such larger masses,
which will be resolvable with comparative ease. And, as
the coalescence and concentration go on, the constituent
masses will gradually become fewer, larger, brighter, and
more densely collected around the common centre of gravi-
ty. See now how completely this inference agrees with
observation. " The circular form is that which most com-
monly characterizes resolvable nebulae," writes Arago.
u Resolvable nebulae," says Sir John Herschel, " are almost
universally round or oval." Moreover, the centre of each
group habitually displays a closer clustering of the consti-
tuent masses than elsewhere ; and it is shown that, under
the law of gravitation, which we know extends to the stars,
this distribution is not one of equilibrium, but implies pro-
gressing concentration. While, just as we inferred that,
according to circumstances, the extent to which aggrega-
tion has been carried must vary ; so we find that, in fact,
there are regular nebulae of all degrees of resolvability,
from those consisting of innumerable minute discrete
masses, to those in which there are a few large bodies
worthy to be called stars.

On the one hand, then, we see that the notion, of

256 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

late years uncritically received, that the nebulae are ex-
tremely remote galaxies of stars like those which make up
our own Milky Way, is totally irreconcileable with the
facts — involves us in sundry absurdities. On the other
hand, we see that the hypothesis of nebular condensation
harmonizes with the most recent results of stellar astrono-
my : nay more — that it supplies us with an explanation
of various appearances which in its absence would be in-
comprehensible.

Descending now to the Solar System, let us consider
first a class of phenomena in some sort transitional — those
offered by comets. In comets we have now existing a
kind of matter like that out of which, according to the
Nebular Hypothesis, the Solar System was evolved. For
the explanation of them, we must hence go back to the time
when the substances forming the sun and planets were yet
unconcentrated.

When diffused matter, precipitated from a rarer
medium, is aggregating, there are certain to be here and
there produced small flocculi, which, either in consequence
of local currents or the conflicting attractions of adjacent
masses, remain detached ; as do, for instance, minute
shreds of cloud in a summer sky. In a concentrating
nebula these will, in the great majority of cases, eventually
coalesce with the larger flocculi near to them. But it is
tolerably evident that some of the remotest of these small
flocculi, formed at the outermost parts of the nebula, will
not coalesce with the larger internal masses, but will slowly
follow without overtaking them. The relatively greater
resistance of the medium necessitates this. As a single
feather falling to the ground will be rapidly left behind by
a pillow-full of feathers ; so, in their progress to the com-
mon centre of gravity, will the outermost shreds of vapour
be left behind by the great masses of vapour internally

CONDITIONS OF CONCENTRATION. 257

situated. But we are not dependent merely on reasoning
for this belief. Observation shows us that the less con-
centrated external parts of nebulae, are left behind by the
more concentrated, internal parts. Examined through high
powers, all nebulae, even when they have assumed regular
forms, are seen to be surrounded by luminous streaks, of
which the directions show that they are being drawn into
the general mass. Still higher powers bring into view still
smaller, fainter, and more widely-dispersed streaks. And
it cannot be doubted that the minute fragments which no
telescopic aid makes visible, are yet more numerous and
widely dispersed. Thus far, then, inference and observa-
tion are at one.

Granting that the great majority of these outlying por-
tions of nebulous matter will be drawn into the central
mass long before it reaches a definite form, the presump-
tion is that some of the very small, far-removed portions
will not be so ; but that before they arrive near it, the cen-
tral mass will have contracted into a comparatively moder-
ate bulk. What now will be the characters of these late-
arriving portions ?

In the first place, they will have extremely eccentric
orbits. Left behind at a time when they were moving to-
wards the centre of gravity in slightly-deflected lines, and
therefore having but very small angular velocities, they
will approach the central mass in greatly elongated ellipses;
and rushing round it will go off again into space. That is,
they will behave just as we see comets do ; whose orbits
are usually so eccentric as to be indistinguishable from
parabolas.

In the second place, they will come from all parts of
the heavens. Our supposition implies that they were left
Dehind at a time when the nebulous mass was of irregu-
lar shape, and had not acquired a definite rotary motion ;
and as the separation of them would not be from any

258 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

one surface of the nebulous mass more than another
the conclusion must be that they will come to the cen«
tral body from various directions in space. This, too,
is exactly what happens. Unlike planets, whose orbits
approximate to one plane, comets have orbits that show no
relation to each other ; but cut the plane of the ecliptic at
all angles.

In the third place, applying the reasoning already
used, these remotest flocculi of nebulous matter will, at
the outset, be deflected from their straight courses to the
common centre of gravity, not all on one side, but each
on such side as its form determines. And being left be-
hind before the rotation of the nebula is set up, they
will severally retain their different individual motions.
Hence, following the concentrating mass, they will event-
ually go round it on all sides ; and as often from right to
left as from left to right. Here again the inference per-
fectly corresponds with the facts. While all the planets
go round the sun from west to east, comets as often go
round the sun from east to west as from west to east. Out
of 210 comets known in 1855, 104 are direct, and 106 are
retrograde. This equality is what the law of probabilities
would indicate.

Then, in the fourth place, the physical constitution of
comets completely accords with the hypothesis. The abil-
ity of nebulous matter to concentrate into a concrete form,
depends on its mass. To bring its ultimate atoms into that
proximity requisite for chemical union — requisite, that is,
for the production of denser matter — their repulsion must
be overcome. The only force antagonistic to their repul-
sion, is their mutual gravitation. That their mutual gravi-
tation may generate a pressure and temperature of suffi-
cient intensity, there must be an enormous accumulation of
them ; and even then the approximation can slowly go on
only as fast as the evolved heat escapes. But where the

CONSTITUTION AND MOVEMENTS OF COMETS. 259

quantity of atoms is small, and therefore the force of mu-
tual gravitation small, there will be nothing to coerce the
atoms into union. Whence we infer that these detached
fragments of nebulous matter will continue in their origi-
nal state. We find that they do so. Comets consist of an
extremely rare medium, which, as shown by the descrip
tion already quoted from Sir John Herschel, has charac
ters like those we concluded would belong to partially-
condensed nebulous matter.

Tet another very significant fact is seen in the distribu-
tion of comets. Though they come from all parts of the
heavens, they by no means come in equal abundance from
all parts of the heavens ; but are far more numerous about
the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane. Speaking
generally, comets having orbit-planes that are highly in-
clined to the ecliptic, are comets having orbits of which the
major axes are highly inclined to the ecliptic — comets that
come from high latitudes. This is not a necessary connex-
ion ; for the planes of the orbits might be highly inclined
to the ecliptic while the major axes were inclined to it very
little. But in the absence of any habitually-observed rela-
tion of this kind, it may safely be concluded that, on the
average, highly-inclined cometary orbits are cometary or-
bits with highly-inclined major axes ; and that thus, a pre-
dominance of cometary orbits cutting the plane of the
ecliptic at great angles, implies a predominance of comet-
ary orbits having major axes that cut the ecliptic at great
angles. Now the predominance of highly inclined com-
etary orbits, may be gathered from the following table,
compiled by M. Arago, to which we have added a column
giving the results up to a date two years later.

260

THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

Inclinations.

Number of
Comets
in 1831.

Number of
Comets
in 1853.

Number of
Comets
in 1855.

Deg. Deg.

From 0 to 10

9

19

19

" 10 " 20

13

18

19

" 20 " 30

10

13

14

." 30 " 40

17

22

22

" 40 " 50

14

35

36

" 50 " 60

23

27

29

" 60 " 70

IT

23

25

" TO " 80

19

26

27

" 80 " 90

15

J 18

19

Total ..

137

201

210

At first sight this table seems not to warrant our state-
ment. Assuming the alleged general relation between the
inclinations of cometary orbits, and the directions in space
from which the comets come, the table may be thought to
show that the frequency of comets increases as we progress
from the plane of the ecliptic up to 45°, and then decreases
up to 90°. But this apparent diminution arises from the
fact that the successive zones of space rapidly diminish in
their areas on approaching the poles. If we allow for
this, we shall find that the excess of comets continues to
increase up to the highest angles of inclination. In the
table below, which, for convenience, is arranged in inverted
order, we have taken as standards of comparison the area
of the zone round the pole, and the number of comets it
contains ; and having ascertained the areas of the other
zones, and the numbers of comets they should contain were
comets equally distributed, we have shown how great be-
comes the deficiency in descending from the poles of the
ecliptic to its plane.

DISTRIBUTION OF COMETS.

261

Between

Area
of Zone.

Number of
Comets, if

equally
distributed.

Actual

Number of

Comets.

Deficiency.

Relative
Abundance.

Deg. Deg.

i>0 and 80

1

19

19

0

11-5

80 " 70

2-98

56-6

27

29-6

5-5

70 " 60

4-85

92

25

67

3-12

60 " 50

6-6

125

29

96

2-66

50 " 40

8-13

154

36

118

2-68

40 " 30

9-42

179

22

157

1-4

30 " 20

10-42

198

14

184

0-8

20 " 10

11-1

210

19

191

1-04

10 " 0

11-5

218

19

199

1

In strictness, the calculation should be made with refer-
ence, not to the plane of the ecliptic, but to the plane of
the sun's equator ; and this might or might not render the
progression more regular. Probably, too, the progression
would be made somewhat different were the calculation
based, as it should be, not on the inclinations of orbit-
planes, but on the inclinations of major axes. But even as
it is, the result is sufficiently significant : since, though the
conclusion that comets are 11'5 times more abundant about
the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane, can be but a
rough approximation to the truth, yet no correction of it is
likely very much to change this strong contrast.

What, then, is the meaning of this fact ? It has sev-
eral meanings. It negatives the supposition, favoured by
Laplace among others, that comets are bodies that were
wandering in space, or have come from other systems ; for
the probabilities are infinity to one against the orbits of
such wandering bodies showing any definite relation to the
plane of the Solar System. For the like reason, it nega-
tives the hypothesis of Lagrange, otherwise objectionable,
that comets have resulted from planetary catastrophes
analogous to that which is supposed to have produced the
asteroids. It clearly shows that, instead of comets being
accidental members of the Solar System, they are necessary

262 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

members of it — have as distinct a structural relation to it
as the planets themselves. That comets are abundant
round the axis of the Solar System, and grow rarer as we
approach its plane, implies that the genesis of comets has
followed some law — a law in some way concerned with the
genesis of the Solar System.

If We ask for any so-called final cause of this arrange-
ment, none can be assigned : until a probable use for com-
ets has been shown, no reason can be given why they
should be thus distributed. But when we consider the
question as one of physical science, we see that comets are
antithetical to planets, not only in their great rarity, in
their motions as indifferently direct or retrograde, in their
eccentric orbits, and in the varied directions of those or-
bits ; but we see the antithesis further marked in this, that
while planets have some relation to the plane of nebular
rotation, comets have some relation to the axis of nebular
rotation.* And without attempting to explain the nature
of this relation, the mere fact that such a relation exists,
indicates that comets have resulted from a process of evo-
lution— points to a past time when the matter now forming
the Solar System extended to those distant regions of space
which comets visit.

See, then, how differently this class of phenomena bears
on the antagonistic hypotheses. To the hypothesis com-
monly received, comets are stumbling-blocks : why there
should be hundreds (or probably thousands) of extremely
rare aeriform masses rushing to and fro round the sun, it
cannot say ; any more than it can explain their physical
constitutions, their various and eccentric movements, or

* It is alike remarkable and suggestive, that a parallel relation exists
between the distribution of nebulae and the axis of our galaxy. Just aa
comets are abundant around the poles of our Solar System, and rare in the
neighbourhood of its plane : so are nebulae abundant around the poles of
our sidereal system, and rare in the neighbourhood of its plane.

IT EXPLAINS COMETARY PHENOMENA. 2G3

their distribution. The hypothesis of evolution, on the
other hand, not only allows of the general answer, that
they are minor results of the genetic process ; but also fur-
nishes us with something like explanations of their several
peculiarities.

And now, leaving these erratic bodies, let us turn to
the more familiar and important members of the Solar Sys-
tem. It was the remarkable harmony subsisting among
their movements, which first made Laplace conceive that
the sun, planets, and satellites had resulted from a common
genetic process. As Sir William Herschel, by his observa-
tions on the nebulae, was led to the conclusion that stars re-
sulted from the aggregation of diffused matter ; so Laplace,
by his observations on the structure of the Solar System,
was led to the conclusion that only by the rotation of ag-
gregating matter were its peculiarities to be explained. In
his " Exposition du Systeme du Monde," he enumerates as
the leading evidences of evolution : — 1. The movements of
the planets in the same direction and almost in the same
plane ; 2. The movements of the satellites in the same di-
rection as those of the planets ; 3. The movement of rota-
tion of these various bodies and of the sun in the same direc-
tion as the orbitual motions, and in planes little different ;
4. The small eccentricity of the orbits of the planets and
satellites, as contrasted with the great eccentricity of the
cometary orbits. And the probability that these harmoni-
ous movements had a common cause, he calculates as two
hundred thousand billions to one.

Observe that this immense preponderance of probabil-
ity does not point to a common cause under the form ordi-
narily conceived — an Invisible Power working after the me-
thod of u a Great Artificer ; " but to an Invisible Power
working after the method of evolution. For though the
supporters of the common hypothesis may argue that it
13

264 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

was necessary for the sake of stability that the planets
should go round the sun in the same direction and nearly
in one plane, they cannot thus account for the direction of
the axial motions. The mechanical equilibrium would not
have been at all interfered with, had the sun been without
any rotatory movement ; or had he revolved on his axis in
a direction opposite to that in which the planets go round
him ; or in a direction at right angles to the plane of their
orbits. With equal safety the motion of the Moon round
the Earth might have been the reverse of the Earth's mo-
tion round its axis ; or the motion of Jupiter's satellites
might similarly have been at variance with his axial motion •
or that of Saturn's satellites with his. As, however, none of
these alternatives have been followed, the uniformity must be
considered, in this case as in all others, evidence of sub-
ordination to some general law — implies what we call natu-
ral causation, as distinguished from arbitrary arrangement.

Hence the hypothesis of evolution would be the only
probable one, even in the absence of any clue to the partic-
ular mode of evolution. But when we have, propounded
by a mathematician whose authority is second to none, a
definite theory of this evolution based on established me-
chanical laws, which accounts for these various peculiarities,
as well as for many minor ones, the conclusion that the So-
lar System was evolved becomes almost irresistible.

The general nature of Laplace's theory scarcely needs
stating. Books of popular astronomy have familiarized
most readers with his conceptions ; — namely, that the mat
ter now condensed into the Solar System, once formed a
vast rotating spheroid of extreme rarity extending beyond
the orbit of Neptune ; that as this spheroid contracted, its
rate of rotation necessarily increased ; that by augmenting
centrifugal force its equatorial zone was from time to time
prevented from following any further the concentrating
mass, and so remained behind as a revolving ring ; that

laplace's theory of planetary evolution. 2G5

each of the revolving rings thus periodically detached,
eventually became ruptured at its weakest point, and con-
tracting on itself, gradually aggregated into a rotating
mass; that this, like the parent mass, increased in rapidity
of rotation as it decreased in size, and, where the centrifu-
gal force was sufficient, similarly threw off rings, which fi-
nally collapsed into rotating spheroids ; and that thus out of
these primary and secondary rings there arose planets and
their satellites, while from the central mass there resulted the
sun. Moreover, it is tolerably well known that this & pri-
ori reasoning harmonizes with the results of experiment.
Dr. Plateau has shown that when a mass of fluid is, as far
may be, protected from the action of external forces, it
will, if made to rotate with adequate velocity, form detach-
ed rings ; and that these rings will break up into spheroids
which turn on their axes in the same direction with the
central mass. Thus, given the original nebula, which, ac-
quiring a vortical motion in the way we have explained,
has at length concentrated into a vast spheroid of aeriform
matter moving round its axis — given this, and mechanical
principles explain the rest. The genesis of a solar system
displaying movements like those observed, maybe predicted ;
and the reasoning on which the prediction is based is coun-
tenanced by experiment.*

* It is true that, as expressed by him, these propositions of Laplace
are not all beyond dispute. An astronomer of the highest authority, who
has favoured me with some criticisms on this essay, alleges that instead of
a nebulous ring rupturing at one point, and collapsing into a single mass,
11 all probability would be in favour of its breaking up into many masses."
This alternative result certainly seems to be more likely. But granting
that a nebulous ring would break up into many masses, it may still be con-
tended that, since the chances are infinity to one against these being of
equal sizes and equidistant, they could not remain evenly distributed round
theii orbit : this annular chain of gaseous masses would break up into
groups of masses ; these groups would eventually aggregate into larger
groups ; and the final result would be the formation of a single mass. I

266 THE NEBTTLAH HYPOTHESIS.

But now let us inquire whether, besides these most coil
spicuous peculiarities of the Solar System, sundry minor ones
are not similarly explicable. Take first the relation be
tween the planes of the planetary orbits and the plane of
the sun's equator. If, when the nebulous spheroid extend'
ed beyond the orbit of Neptune, all parts of it had been
revolving exactly in the same plane or rather in parallel
planes — if all its parts had had one axis ; then the planes
of the successive rings would have been coincident with
each other and with that of the sun's rotation. But it
needs only to go back to the earlier stages of concentration,
to see that there could exist no such complete uniformity
of motion. The flocculi, already described as precipitated
from an irregular and widely-diffused nebula, and as start-
ing from all points to their common centre of gravity, must
move not in one plane but in innumerable planes, cutting
each other at all angles.

The gradual establishment of a vortical motion such as
we saw must eventually arise, and such as we at present
see indicated in the spiral nebulas, is the gradual approach
toward motion in one plane — the plane of greatest momen-
tum. But this plane can only slowly become decided.
Flocculi not moving in this plane, but entering into the
aggregation at various inclinations, will tend to perform
their revolutions round its centre in their own planes ; and
only in course of time will their motions be partly destroy-
ed by conflicting ones, and partly resolved into the general
motion. Especially will the outermost portions of the ro-
tating mass retain for long time their more or less indepen-
dent directions ; seeing that neither by friction nor by the
central forees will they be so much restrained. Hence the
probabilities are, that the planes of the rings first detached

kiave put the question to an astronomer scarcely second in authority to ths
one above referred to, and he agrees that this would probably be the pro-
cess.

ANOMALY IN THE MOVEMENT OF SATELLITES. 267

will differ considerably from the average plane of the mass ;
while the planes of those detached latest will differ from it
less. Here, again, inference to a considerable extent agrees
with observation. Though the progression is irregular, yet
on the average the inclinations decrease on approaching the
sun.

Consider next the movements of the planets on their
axes. Laplace alleged as one among other evidences of
a common genetic cause, that the planets rotate in a direc-
tion the same as that in which they go round the sun, and
on axes approximately perpendicular to their orbits. Since
he wrote, an exception to this general rule has been discov-
ered in the case of Uranus, and another still more recently
in the case of Neptune — judging, at least, from the mo-
tions of their respective satellites. This anomaly has been
thought to throw considerable doubt on his speculation ;
and at first sight it does so. But a little reflection will,
we believe, show that the anomaly is by no means an insol-
uble one ; and that Laplace simply went too far in putting
down as a certain result of nebular genesis, what is, in some
instances, only a probable result. The cause he pointed
out as determining the direction of rotation, is the greater
absolute velocity of the outer part of the detached ring.
But there are conditions under which this difference of ve-
locity may be relatively insignificant, even if it exists : and
others in which, though existing to a considerable extent, it
will not suffice to determine the direction of rotation.

Note, in the first place, that in virtue of their origin,
the different strata of a concentrating nebulous spheroid,
will be very unlikely to move with equal angular veloci-
ties : only by friction continued for an indefinite time will
their angular velocities be made uniform ; and especially
will the outermost strata, for reasons just now assigned,
maintain for the longest time their differences of move-
ment. Hence, it is possible that in the rings first detached

268 THE NEBTJLAU HYPOTHESIS.

the outer rims may not have greater absolute velocities ;
and thus the resulting planets may have retrograde rota-
tions. Again, the sectional form of the ring is a circum-
stance of moment ; and this form must have differed more
or less in every case. To make this clear, some illustra-
tion will be necessary. Suppose we take an orange, and
assuming the marks of the stalk and the calyx to represent
the poles, cut off round the line of the equator a strip of
peel. This strip of peel, if placed on the table with its
ends meeting, will make a ring shaped like the hoop of a
barrel — a ring whose thickness in the line of its diameter
is very small, but whose width in a direction perpendicular
to its diameter is considerable. Suppose, now, that in
place of an orange, which is a spheroid of very slight
oblateness, we take a spheroid of very great oblateness,
shaped somewhat like a lens of small convexity. If from
the edge or equator of this lens-shaped spheroid, a ring of
moderate size were cut off, it would be unlike the previous
ring in this respect, that its greatest thickness would be in
the line of its diameter, and not in a line at right angles
to its diameter : it would be a ring shaped somewhat
like a quoit, only far more slender. That is to say, ac-
cording to the oblateness of a rotating spheroid, the de-
tached ring may be either a hoop-shaped ring or a quoit-
shaped ring.

One further fact must be noted. In a much -flattened
or lens-shaped spheroid, the form of the ring will vary with
its bulk. A very slender ring, taking off just the equatorial
surface, will be hoop-shaped ; while a tolerably massive
ring, trenching appreciably on the diameter of the spheroid,
will be quoit-shaped. Thus, then, according to the oblate-
ness of the spheroid and the bulkiness of the detached ring,
will the greatest thickness of that ring be in the direction
of its plane, or in a direction perpendicular to its plane.
But this circumstance must greatly affect the rotation of

FORMATION OF NEBULOUS RINGS. 269

the resulting planet. In a decidedly hoop-shaped nebulous
ring, the differences of velocity between the inner and out-
er surfaces will be very small ; and such a ring, aggrega-
ting into a mass whose greatest diameter is at right angles
to the plane of the orbit, will almost certainly give to this
mass a predominant tendency to rotate in a direction at
right angles to the plane of the orbit. Where the ring is
but little hoop-shaped, and the difference of the inner and
outer velocities also greater, as it must be, the opposing
tendencies — one to produce rotation in the plane of the
orbit, and the other rotation perpendicular to it — will
both be influential ; and an intermediate plane of rota-
tion will be taken up. While, if the nebulous ring is de-
cidedly quoit-shaped, and therefore aggregates into a mass
whose greatest dimension lies in the plane of the orbit,
both tendencies will conspire to produce rotation in that
plane.

On referring to the facts, we find them, as far as can be
judged, in harmony with this view. Considering the enor-
mous circumference of Uranus's orbit, and his compara-
tively small mass, we may conclude that the ring from
which he resulted was a comparatively slender, and there-
fore a hoop-shaped one : especially if the nebulous mass
was at that time less oblate than afterwards, which it must
have been. Hence, a plane of rotation nearly perpendicu-
lar to his orbit, and a direction of rotation having no refer-
ence to his orbitual movement. Saturn has a mass seven
times as great, and an orbit of less than half the diameter ;
whence it follows that his genetic ring, having less than
half the circumference, and less than half the vertical thick-
ness (the spheroid being then certainly as oblate, and in-
deed more oblate), must have had considerably greater
width — must have been less hoop-shaped, and more ap-
proaching to the quoit-shaped : notwithstanding difference
of density, it must have been at least two or three times aa

270 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS

broad in the line of its plane. Consequently, Saturn has a
rotatory movement in the same direction as the movement
of translation, and in a plane differing from it by thirty
degrees only.

In the case of Jupiter, again, whose mass is three and a
half times that of Saturn, and whose orbit is little mere
than half the size, the genetic ring must, for the like rea-
sons, have been still broader — decidedly quoit-shaped, we
may say ; and there hence resulted a planet whose plane oi
rotation differs from that of his orbit by scarcely more than
three degrees. Once more, considering the comparative
insignificance of Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury, it fol-
lows that the diminishing circumferences of the rings not
sufficing to account for the smallness of the resulting
masses, the rings must have been slender ones — must have
again approximated to the hoop-shaped ; and thus it hap-
pens that the planes of rotation again diverge more or
less widely from those of the orbits. Taking into account
the increasing oblateness of the original spheroid in the
successive stages of its concentration, and the different
proportions of the detached rings, it seems to us that the
respective rotatory motions are not at variance with the
hypothesis.

Not only the directions, but also the velocities of rota-
tion are thus explicable. It might naturally be supposed
that the large planets would revolve on their axes more
slowly than the small ones : our terrestrial experiences in-
cline ns to expect this. It is a corollary from the Nebular
Hypothesis, however, more especially when interpreted as
above, that while large planets will rotate rapidly, small
ones will rotate slowly ; and we find that in fact they do
so. Other things equal, a concentrating nebulous mass
that is diffused through a wide space, and whose outer parts
have, therefore, to travel from great distances to the com-
mon centre of gravity, will acquire a high axial velocity in

VELOCITIES OF PLANETARY ROTATION. 271

course of its aggregation : and conversely with a small
mass. Still more marked will be the difference where the
form of the genetic ring conspires to increase the rate of
rotation. Other things equal, a genetic ring that is
broadest in the direction of its plane will produce a mass
rotating faster than one that is broadest at right angle
to its plane • and if the ring is absolutely as well as rela-
tively broad, the rotation will be very rapid. These con-
ditions were, as we saw, fulfilled in the case of Jupiter ;
and Jupiter goes round his axis in less than ten hours.
Saturn, in whose case, as above explained, the conditions
were less favourable to rapid rotation, takes ten hours and
a half. While Mars, Earth, Yenus, and Mercury, whose
rings must have been slender, take more than double the
time : the smallest taking the longest.

From the planets, let us now pass to the satellites.
Here, beyond the conspicuous facts commonly adverted to,
that they go round their primaries in the same directions
that these turn on their axes, in planes diverging but
little from their equators, and in orbits nearly circular,
there are several significant traits which must not be passed
over.

One of them is, that each set of satellites repeats in
miniature the relations of the planets to the sun, both in the
respects just named, and in the order of the sizes. On pro-
gressing from the outside of the Solar System to its centre,
we see that there are four large external planets, and four
internal ones which are comparatively small. A like con-
trast holds between the outer and inner satellites in every
case. Among the four satellites of Jupiter, the parallel is
maintained as well as the comparative smallness of the num-
ber allows : the two outer ones are the largest, and the
two inner ones the smallest. According to the most recent
observations made by Mr. Lassell, the like is true of the
four satellites of Uianus. In the case of Saturn, who haa

272 THE NEBULAB HYPOTHESIS.

eight secondary planets revolving round him, the like-
ness is still more close in arrangement as in number :
the three outer satellites are large, the inner ones small ;
and the contrasts of size are here much greater between
the largest, which is nearly as big as Mars, and the
smallest, which is with difficulty discovered even by the
best telescopes.

Moreover, the analogy does not end here. Just as with
the planets, there is at first a general increase of size on
travelling inwards from Neptune and Uranus, which do
not differ very widely, to Saturn, which is much larger,
and to Jupiter, which is the largest ; so of the eight satel-
lites of Saturn, the largest is not the outermost, but the
outermost save two ; so of Jupiter's four secondaries, the
largest is the most remote but one. Now these analogies
are inexplicable by the theory of final causes. For pur-
poses of lighting, if this be the presumed object of these
attendant bodies, it would have been far better had the
larger been the nearer : at present, their remoteness ren-
ders them of less service than the smallest. To the Nebu-
lar Hypothesis, however, these analogies give further sup-
port. They show the action of a common physical cause.
They imply a law of genesis, holding in the secondary sys-
tems as in the primary system.

Still more instructive shall we find the distribution of
the satellites — their absence in some instances, and their
presence in other instances, in smaller or greater numbers.
The argument from design fails to account for this distri-
bution. Supposing it be granted that planets nearer the
Sun than ourselves, have no need of moons (though, con-
sidering that their nights are as dark, and, relatively to
their brilliant days, even darker than ours, the need seems
quite as great) — supposing this to be granted ; what is to
be said of Mars, which, placed half as far again from the
Sun as we are, has yet no moon ? Or again, how are we

DISTRIBUTION OF SATELLITES. 273

to explain the fact that Uranus has but half as many moons
as Saturn, though he is at double the distance ? While,
however, the current presumption is untenable, the Nebu-
lar Hypothesis furnishes us with an explanation. It actually
enables us to predict, by a not very complex calculation,
where satellites will be abundant and where they will be
absent. The reasoning is as follows.

In a rotating nebulous spheroid that is concentrating
into a planet, there are at work two antagonist mechanical
tendencies — the centripetal and the centrifugal. While
the force of gravitation draws all the atoms of the spheroid
together, their tangential momentum is resolvable into two
parts, of which one resists gravitation. The ratio which
this centrifugal force bears to gravitation, varies, other
things equal, as the square of the velocity. Hence, the
aggregation of a rotating nebulous spheroid will be more
or less strongly opposed by this outward impetus of its
particles, according as its rate of rotation is high or low :
the opposition, in equal spheroids, being four times as great
when the rotation is twice as rapid ; nine times as great
when it is three times as rapid ; and so on. Now, the de-
tachment of a ring from a planet-forming body of nebulous
matter, implies that at its equatorial zone the centrifugal
force produced by concentration has become so great as to
balance gravity. Whence it is tolerably obvious that the
detachment of rings will be most frequent from those
masses in which the centrifugal tendency bears the greatest
ratio to the gravitative tendency. Though it is not possi-
ble to calculate what proportions these two tendencies had
to each other in the genetic spheroid which produced each
planet ; it is possible to calculate where each was the great-
est and where the least. While it is true that the ratio
which centrifugal force now bears to gravity at the equa-
tor of each planet, differs widely from that which it bore
iuring the earlier stages of concentration ; and while it is

274 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

true that this change in the ratio, depending on the degree

of contraction each planet has undergone, has in no two

cases been the same ; yet we may fairly conclude that

where the ratio is still the greatest, it has been the greatest

from the beginning. The satellite-forming tendency which

each planet had, will be approximately indicated by the

proportion now existing in it between the aggregating

power, and the power that has opposed aggregation. On

making the requisite calculations, a remarkable harmony

with this inference comes out. The following table shows

what fraction the centrifugal force is of the centripetal force

in every case ; and the relation which that fraction bears

to the number of satellites.

Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus.
Ill 1 111

362 282 289 326 14 6'2 9

1 4 8 4 (or 6 ac-

Satellite. Satellites. Satellites cording to

and three Herschel.)
rings.

Thus, taking as our standard of comparison the Earth
with its one moon, we see that Mercury and Mars, in which
the centrifugal force is relatively less, have no moons. Ju-
piter, in which it is far greater, has four moons. Uranus,
in which it is greater still, has certainly four, and probably
more than four. Saturn, in which it is the greatest, being
nearly one-sixth of gravity, has, including his rings, eleven
attendants. The only instance in which there is imperfect
conformity with observation is that of Venus. Here it ap-
pears that the centrifugal force is relatively a very little
greater than in the Earth ; and according to the hypothesis,
Venus ought, therefore, to have a satellite. Of this seem-
ing anomaly there are two explanations. Not a few astron-
omers have asserted that Venus has a satellite. Cassim,
Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Roedkier, and Montbarron,
professed to have seen it ; and Lambert calculated its ele-

MOTIONS OF THE SATELLITES. 275

ments. Granting, however, that they were mistaken, then
is still the fact that the diameter of Venus is variously esti-
mated ; and that a very small change in the data would
make the fraction less instead of greater than that of the
Earth. But admitting the discrepancy, we think that this
correspondence, even as it now stands, is one of the strong-
est confirmations of the Nebular Hypothesis.*

Certain more special peculiarities of the satellites must
be mentioned as suggestive. One of them is the relation
between the period of revolution and that of rotation.
No discoverable purpose is served by making the Moon go
round its axis in the same time that it goes round the
Earth : for our convenience, a more rapid axial motion
would have been equally good ; and for any possible inhab-
itants of the Moon, much better. Against the alternative
supposition, that the equality occurred by accident, the
probabilities are, as Laplace says, infinity to one. But to
this arrangement, which is explicable neither as the result
of design nor of chance, the Nebular Hypothesis furnishes
a clue. In his " Exposition du Systeme du Monde," La-
place shows, by reasoning too detailed to be here repeated,
that under the circumstances such a relation of movements
would be likely to establish itself.

Among Jupiter's satellites, which severally display these
same synchronous movements, there also exists a still more
remarkable relation. " If the mean angular velocity of the
first satellite be added to twice that of the third, the sum

* Since this essay was published, the data of the above calculations
have been changed by the discovery that the Sun's distance is three mil-
lions of miles less than was supposed. Hence results a diminution in his
estimated mass, and in the masses of the planets (except the Earth and
Moon). No revised estimate of the masses having yet been published, the
table is re-printed in its original form. The diminution of the masses to
the alleged extent of about one-tenth, does not essentially alter the reta
tions above pointed out.

276 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

will be equal to three times that of the second ; " and
" from this it results that the situations of any two of them
being given, that of the third can be found." Now here, as
before, no conceivable advantage results. Neither in this
case can the connexion have been accidental : the probabil
ities are infinity to one to the contrary. But again, accord
ing to Laplace, the Nebular Hypothesis supplies a solution.
Are not these significant facts ?

Most significant fact of all, however, is that presented
by the rings of Saturn. As Laplace remarks, they are, as
it were, still extant witnesses of the genetic process he
propounded. Here we have, continuing permanently,
forms of matter like those through which each planet and
satellite once passed ; and their movements are just what,
in conformity with the hypothesis, they should be. " La
duree de la rotation d'une planete doit done etre, d'apres
cette hypothese, plus petite que la duree de la revolution
du corps le plus voisin qui circule autour d'elle," says La-
place.* And he then points out that the time of Saturn's
rotation is to that of his rings as 427 to 438 — an amount
of difference such as was to be expected.

But besides the existence of these rings, and their
movements in the required manner, there is a highly sug-
gestive circumstance which Laplace has not remarked —
namely, the place of their occurrence. If the Solar Sys
tern was produced after the manner popularly supposed,
then there is no reason why the rings of Saturn should not
have encircled him at a comparatively great distance. Or,
instead of being given to Saturn, who in their absence
would still have had eight satellites, such rings might have
been given to Mars, by way of compensation for a moon.
Or they might have been given to Uranus, who, for pur-
poses of illumination, has far greater need of them. On
the common hypothesis, we repeat, no reason can be as-

* " Meeanique Celeste," p. 346.

EXPLANATION OF SATURN 's RINGS. 27\

signed for their existence in the place where we find them.
But on the hypothesis of evolution, the arrangement, so far
from offering a difficulty, offers another confirmation.
These rings are found where alone they could have been
produced — close to the body of a planet whose centrifu-
gal force bears a great proportion to his gravitative force.
That permanent rings should exist at any great distance
from a planet's body, is, on the Nebular Hypothesis, mani-
festly impossible. Rings detached early in the process of
concentration, and therefore consisting of gaseous matter
having extremely little power of cohesion, can have no
ability to resist the disrupting forces due to imperfect bal-
ance ; and must, therefore, collapse into satellites. A liquid
ring is the only one admitting of permanence. But a liquid
ring can be produced only when the aggregation is ap-
proaching its extreme — only when gaseous matter is pass-
ing into liquid, and the mass is about to assume the plane-
tary form. And even then it cannot be produced save un-
der special conditions. Gaining a rapidly-increasing pre-
ponderance, as the gravitative force does during the closing
stages of concentration, the centrifugal force cannot in or-
dinary cases cause the detachment of rings when the mass
has become dense. Only where the centrifugal force has
all along been very great, and remains powerful to the last,
as in Saturn, can liquid rings be formed. Thus the Nebu-
lar Hypothesis shows us why such appendages surround
Saturn, but exist nowhere else.

And then, let us not forget the fact, discovered within
these few years, that Saturn possesses a nebulous ring,
through which his body is seen as through a thick veil. In
a position where alone such a thing seems preservable —
suspended, as it were, between the denser rings and the
planet — there still continues one of these annular masses of
diffused matter from which satellites and planets are be-
lieved to have originated.

278 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

We find, then, that besides those most conspicuous pe«
culiarities of the Solar System, which first suggested the
theory of its evolution, there are many minor ones point-
ing in the same direction. Were there no other evidence,
these mechanical arrangements would, considered in their
totality, go far to establish the Nebular Hypothesis.

From the mechanical arrangements of the Solar Sys-
tem, turn we now to its physical characters ; and, first, let
us consider the inferences deducible from relative specific
gravities.

The fact that, speaking generally, the denser planets are
the nearer to tho Sun, is by some considered as adding
another to the many indications of nebular origin. Legiti-
mately assuming that the outermost parts of a rotating
nebulous spheroid, in its earlier stages of concentration,
will be comparatively rare ; and that the increasing density
which the whole mass acquires as it contracts, must hold
of the outermost parts as well as the rest ; it is argued
that the rings successively detached will be more and more
dense, and will form planets of higher and higher specific
gravities. But passing over other objections, this explana-
tion is quite inadequate to account for the facts. Using
the Earth as a standard of comparison, the relative densi-
ties run thus : —

Neptune. Uranus. Saturn. Jupiter. Mars. Earth. Venus, Mercury. Sun.
0-14 0-24 0-14 0-24 0'95 l'OO 0'92 1*12 0'25

Two seemingly insurmountable objections are presented
by this series. The first is, that the progression is but a
broken one. Neptune is as dense as Saturn, which, by the
hypothesis, it ought not to be. Uranus is as dense as Ju-
piter, which it ought not to be. Uranus is denser than
Saturn, and the Earth is denser than Venus — facts which
not only give no countenance to, but directly contradict,
the alleged explanation. The second objection, still more

DENSITIES OF THE PLANETS. 279

serious, is the low specific gravity of the Sun. If when the
matter of the Sun filled the orbit of Mercury, its state of
aggregation was such that the detached ring formed a planet
having a specific gravity equal to that of iron ; then the Sun
itself, now that it has concentrated, should have a specific
gravity greater than that of iron; whereas its specific
gravity is not much above that of water. Some other inter-
pretation must therefore be sought.

Differences in the specific gravities of the members of our
Solar System have several possible causes ; which may act
singly or in co-operation. 1. The one above supposed —
differences among the substances composing them, in respect
of their natures. 2. Differences among the quantities of sub-
stance : mutual gravitation of parts in large masses, produc-
ing, under conditions otherwise alike, greater density than
in small masses. 3. Differences among internal structures,
as dependent on the stage of concentration reached ; which
differences will be determined primarily by bulk (small
bodies cooling faster than large ones), and, secondarily,
by the ratio of centrifugal force to gravity (centrifugal force
impeding concentration). A glance at the foregoing list,
showing an immense contrast between the low specific
gravities of the great planets and the high specific gravities
of the small ones, raises the suspicion that the last cause of
difference is the chief cause. In advancing from the gaseous
state to the molten state, there have to be passed through
all intermediate states — states in which the gaseous and
liquid matters, mingled in some manner or other, bear con-
tinually changing ratios to one another. Beginning with an
envelope of precipitated cloud from which drops of metallic
rain fall inwards; going through stages in which this
metallic rain, getting ever thicker, fills the interior ; coming
to a stage at which a molten nucleus begins to be formed ;
there has to be reached the other extreme, in which all the
condensible matter is aggregated into a molten spheroid.

280 THE NEBUXAH HYPOTHESIS.

Clearly this transition will be gone through by a planet like
the Earth, in a much shorter period than by such vast
planets as Jupiter and Saturn ; in which, also, the centri-
fugal force is great. Hence, it is inferable from the Nebular
Hypothesis that, other things equal, the small celestial bod-
ies will have reached late stages of concentration and high
specific gravities, at a time when the large celestial bodies
are in early stages of concentration and have low specific
gravities.

In considering the specific gravities of the heavenly
bodies, we have been obliged to speak of the heat evolved
by them. But we have yet to point out the fact that in
their present conditions with respect to temperature, we
find additional materials for building up our argument ; and
these too of the most substantial character.

Heat must inevitably be generated by the aggregation of
diffused matter into a concrete form ; and throughout our
reasonings we have assumed that such generation of heat
has been an accompaniment of nebular condensation. If,
then, the Nebular Hypothesis be true, we ought to find in
all the heavenly bodies, either present high temperatures or
marks of past high temperatures.

As far as observation can reach, the facts prove to be
what theory requires. Various evidences conspire to show
that, below a certain depth, the Earth is still molten. And
that it was once wholly molten, is implied by the circum-
stance that the rate at which the temperature increases on
descending below its surface, is such as would be found in
a mass that had been cooling for an indefinite period. The
Moon, too, shows us, by its corrugations and its conspicu-
ous volcanoes, that in it there has been a process of refrig-
eration and contraction, like that which had gone on in the
Earth. And in Venus, the existence of mountains simi-
larly indicates the shrinking of a solidifying crust, or an
igneous reaction of the interior upon it, or both.

MOLTEN INTERIOR OF TUE EARTH. 281

On the common theory of creation, these phenomena
are inexplicable. To what end the Earth should once have
existed in a molten state, incapable of supporting life, it
cannot say. To satisfy this supposition, the Earth should
have been originally created in a state fit for the assumed
purposes of creation ; and similarly with the other planets
While, therefore, to the Nebular Hypothesis the evidence
of original incandescence and still continued internal heat,
furnish strong confirmation, they are, to the antagonist hy-
pothesis, insurmountable difficulties.

But the argument from temperature does not end here.
There remains to be noticed a more conspicuous and still
more significant fact. If the Solar System was formed by
the concentration of diffused matter, which evolved heat
while gravitating into its present dense form ; then there
are certain obvious corollaries respecting the relative tem-
peratures of the resulting bodies* Other things equal, the
latest-formed mass will be the latest in cooling — will, for an
almost infinite time, possess a greater heat than the earlier-
formed ones. Other things equal, the largest mass will, be-
cause of its superior aggregative force, become hotter th«vd
the others, and radiate more intensely. Other things
equal, the largest mass, notwithstanding the higher tempe-
rature it reaches, will, in consequence of its relatively small
surface, be the slowest in losing its evolved heat. And
hence, if there is one mass which was not only formed after
the rest, but exceeds them enormously in size, it follows
that this one will reach an intensity of incandescence much
beyond that reached by the rest ; and will continue in a
state of intense incandescence long after the rest have
cooled.

Such a mass we have in the Sun. It is a corollary from
the Nebular Hypothesis, that the matter forming the Sun
assumed its present concrete form, at a period much more
recent than that at which the planets became definite bo-

282 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS.

dies. The quantity of matter contained in the Sun is nearly
five million times that contained in the smallest planet, and
above a thousand times that contained in the largest. And
while, from the enormous gravitative force of the atoms,
the evolution of heat has been intense, the facilities of ra-
diation have been relatively small. Hence the still-contin-
ued high temperature. Just that condition of the central
body which is a necessary inference from the Nebular Hy-
pothesis, we find actually existing in the Sun.

It may be well to consider a little more closely, what is
the probable condition of the Sun's surface. Round the
globe of incandescent molten substances, thus conceived to
form the visible body of the Sun, there is known to exist a
voluminous atmosphere : the inferior brilliancy of the Sun's
border, and the appearances during a total eclipse, alike
show this.* What now must be the constitution of this at-
mosphere ? At a temperature approaching a thousand
times that of molten iron, which is the calculated tempera-
ture of the solar surface, very many, if not all, of the sub-
stances we know as solid, would become gaseous; and
though the Sun's enormous attractive force must be a pow-
erful check on this tendency to assume the form of vapour,
yet it cannot be questioned that if the body of the Sun
consists of molten substances, some of them must be con-
stantly undergoing evaporation. That the dense gases
thus continually being generated will form the entire mass of
the solar atmosphere, is not probable. If anything is to be
inferred, either from the Nebular Hypothesis, or from the
analogies supplied by the planets, it must be concluded
that the outermost part of the solar atmosphere consists of
what are called permanent gases— gases that are not con-
densible into fluid even at low temperatures. If we con-
sider what must have been the state of things here, when
the surface of the Earth was molten, we shall see that

* See Herschel's " Outlines of Astronomy."

REVELATIONS OF SPECTRUM- ANA LYSIS. 283

round the still molten surface of the Sun, there probably
exists a stratum of dense aeriform matter, made up of sub-
limed metals and metallic compounds, and above this a
stratum of comparatively rare medium analogous to air.
What now will happen with these two strata ? Did they
both consist of permanent gases, they could not remain
separate : according to a well-known law, they would
eventually form a homogeneous mixture. But this will by
no means happen when the lower stratum consists of mat-
ters that are gaseous only at excessively high temperatures.
Given off from a molten surface, ascending, expanding, and
cooling, these will presently reach a limit of elevation
above which they cannot exist as vapour, but must con-
dense and precipitate. Meanwhile the upper stratum, ha-
bitually charged with its quantum of these denser matters,
as our air with its quantum of water, and ready to deposit
them on any depression of temperature, must be habitually
unable to take up any more of the lower stratum ; and
therefore this lower stratum will remain quite distinct from
it.

Since the foregoing paragraph was originally published,
in 1858, the proposition it enunciates as a corollary from
the Nebular Hypothesis, has been in great part verified.
The marvellous disclosures made by spectrum-analysis,
have proved beyond the possibility of doubt, that the solar
atmosphere contains, in a gaseous state, the metals, iron,
calcium, magnesium, sodium, chromium, and nickel, along
with small quantities of barium, copper, and zinc. That
there exist in the solar atmosphere other metals like those
which we have on the Earth, is probable ; and that it con-
tains elements which are unknown to us, is very possible.

Be this as it may, however, the proposition that the
Sun's atmosphere consists largely of metallic vapours, must
take rank as an established truth ; and that the incandes*
tent body of the Sun consists of molten metals, follows al

284: THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

most of necessity. That an a priori inference which prob-
ably seemed to many readers wildly speculative, should be
thus conclusively justified by observations, made without
reference to any theory, is a striking fact ; and it gives yet
further support to the hypothesis from which this a priori
conclusion was drawn. It may be well to add that Kirch
hoff, to whom we owe this discovery respecting the consti-
tution of the solar atmosphere, himself remarks in his me-
moir of 1861, that the facts disclosed are in harmony with
the Nebular Hypothesis.

And here let us not omit to note also, the significant
bearing which KirchhofF's results have on the doctrine con-
tended for in a foregoing section. Leaving out the barium,
copper, and zinc, of which the quantities are inferred to be
small, the metals existing as vapours in the Sun's atmo-
sphere, and by consequence as molten in his incandescent
body, have an average specific gravity of 4'25. But the
average specific gravity of the Sun is about 1. How is
this discrepancy to be explained ? To say that the Sun
consists almost wholly of the three lighter metals named,
would be quite unwarranted by the evidence : the results
of spectrum-analysis would just as much warrant the asser-
tion that the Sun consists almost wholly of the three heav-
ier. Three metals (two of them heavy) having been al-
ready left out of the estimate because their quantities ap-
pear to be small, the only legitimate assumption on which
to base an estimate of specific gravity, is that the rest are
present in something ^ke equal amounts. Is it then that
the lighter metals exist in larger proportions in the molten
mass, though not in the atmosphere ? This is very un-
likely : the known habitudes of matter rather imply that
the reverse is the case. Is it then that under the condi-
tions of temperature and gravitation existing in the Sun,
the state of liquid aggregation is wholly unlike that exist-
ing here ? This is a very strong assumption : it is one for

PROBABLE CONSTITUTION OF THE SUN. 285

which our terrestrial experiences afford no adequate war
rant ; and if such unlikeness exists, it is very improbable
that it should produce so immense a contrast in specific
gravity as that of 4 to 1. The more legitimate conclusion
is that the Sun's body is not made up of molten matter all
through ; but that it consists of a molten shell with a
gaseous nucleus. And this we have seen to be a corollary
froni the Nebular Hypothesis.

Considered in their ensemble, the several groups of evi-
dences assigned amount almost to proof. We have seen
that, when critically examined, the speculations of late
years current respecting the nature of the nebulae, commit
their promulgators to sundry absurdities ; while, on the
other hand, we see that the various appearances these neb-
ulae present, are explicable as different stages in the precip-
itation and aggregation of diffused matter. We find that
comets, alike by their physical constitution, their immense-
ly-elongated and variously-directed orbits, the distribution
of those orbits, and their manifest structural relation to
the Solar System, bear testimony to the past existence of
that system in a nebulous form. Not only do those obvious
peculiarities in the motions of the planets which first sug-
gested the Nebular Hypothesis, supply proofs of it, but on
closer examination we discover, in the slightly-diverging
inclinations of their orbits, in their various rates of rotation,
and their differently-directed axes of rotation, that the
planets yield us yet further testimony ; while the satellites,
by sundry traits, and especially by their occurrence in
greater or less abundance where the hypothesis implies
greater or less abundance, confirm this testimony. By
tracing out the process of planetary condensation, we are
led to conclusions respecting the internal structure of plan-
ets which at once explain their anomalous specific gravities,
and at the same time reconcile various seemingly contra-

286 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.

dictory facts. Once more, it turns out that what is a priori
inferable from the Nebular Hypothesis respecting the tem-
peratures of the resulting bodies, is just what observation
establishes ; and that both the absolute and the relative
temperatures of the Sun and planets are thus accounted
for. "When we contemplate these various evidences in
their totality — when we observe that, by the Nebular Hy-
pothesis, the leading phenomena of the Solar System, and
the heavens in general, are explicable ; and when, on the
other hand, we consider that the current cosmogony is not
only without a single fact to stand on, but is at variance
with all our positive knowledge of Nature ; we see that the
proof becomes overwhelming.

It remains only to point out that while the genesis of
the Solar System, and of countless other systems like it, is
thus rendered comprehensible, the ultimate mystery con-
tinues as great as ever. The problem of existence is not
solved : it is simply removed further back. The Nebular
Hypothesis throws no light on the origin of diffused mat-
ter ; and diffused matter as much needs accounting for as
concrete matter. The genesis of an atom is not easier to
conceive than the genesis of a planet. Nay, indeed, so far
from making the Universe a less mystery than before, it
makes it a greater mystery. Creation by manufacture is a
much lower thing than creation by evolution. A man can
put together a machine ; but he cannot make a machine
develop itself. The ingenious artizan, able as some have
been, so far to imitate vitality as to produce a mechanical
pianoforte-player, may in some sort conceive how, by
greater skill, a complete man might be artificially pro-
duced ; but he is unable to conceive how such a complex
organism gradually arises out of a minute structureless
germ. That our harmonious universe once existed poten-
tially as formless diffused matter, and has slowly grown
into its present organized state, is a far more astonishing

THE ULTIMATE MYSTERY STILL UNSOLVED. 287

fact than would have been its formation after the artificial
method vulgarly supposed. Those who hold it legitimate
to argue from phenomena to noumena, may rightly contend
that the Nebular Hypothesis implies a First Cause as much
transcending " the mechanical God of Paley," as this does
the fetish of the savage.

H

VII.

BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

AFTER the controversy between the Neptunists and
the Vulcanists had been long carried on without defi-
nite results, there came a reaction against all speculative
geology. Reasoning without adequate data having led to
nothing, inquirers went into the opposite extreme, and con-
fining themselves wholly to collecting data, relinquished
reasoning. The Geological Society of London was formed
with the express object of accumulating evidence ; for many
years hypotheses were forbidden at its meetings ; and only
of late have attempts to organize the mass of observations
into consistent theory been tolerated.

This reaction and subsequent re-reaction, well illustrate
the recent history of English thought in general. The
time was when our countrymen speculated, certainly to as
great an extent as any other people, on all those high ques-
tions which present themselves to the human intellect ;
and, indeed, a glance at the systems of philosophy that are
or have been current on the Continent, suffices to show how
much other nations owe to the discoveries of our ances-
tors. For a generation or two, however, these more ab-
stract subjects have fallen into neglect ; and, among those
who plume themselves on being " practical," even into con*

PRESENT TENDENCIES OF INQUIRY. 289

tempt. Partly, perhaps, a natural accompaniment of our
rapid material growth, this intellectual phase has been in
great measure due to the exhaustion of argument, and the
necessity for better data. Not so much with a conscious
recognition of the end to be subserved, as from an uncon-
scious subordination to that rhythm traceable in social
changes as in other things, an era of theorizing without
observing, has been followed by an era of observing with-
out theorizing. During the long-continued devotion to
concrete science, an immense quantity of raw material for
abstract science has been accumulated ; and now there is
obviously commencing a period in which this accumulated
raw material will be organized into consistent theory. On
all sides — equally in the inorganic sciences, in the science
of life, and in the science of society — may we note the ten-
dency to pass from the superficial and empirical to the more
profound and rational.

In Psychology this change is conspicuous. The facts
brought to light by anatomists and physiologists during the
last fifty years, are at length being used towards the inter-
pretation of this highest class of biological phenomena ; and
already there is promise of a great advance. The work of
Mr. Alexander Bain, of which the second volume has been
recently issued, may be regarded as especially characteris-
tic of the transition. It gives us in orderly arrangement,
the great mass of evidence supplied by modern science
towards the building-up of a coherent system of mental
philosophy. It is not in itself a system of mental philoso-
phy, properly so called ; but a classified collection of mate-
rials for such a system, presented with that method and in-
sight which scientific discipline generates, and accompanied
with occasional passages of an analytical character. It is
indeed that which it in the main professes to be — a natural
history of the mind.

Were we to say that the researches of the naturalist

290 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL

who collects and dissects and describes species, bear the
same relation to the researches of the comparative anato-
mist tracing out the laws of organization, which Mr. Bain's
labours bear to the labours of the abstract psychologist,
we should be going somewhat too far ; for Mr. Bain's work
is not wholly descriptive. Still, however, such an analogy
conveys the best general conception of what he has done ;
and serves most clearly to indicate its needfulness. For
as, before there can be made anything like true generaliza-
tions respecting the classification of organisms and the laws
of organization, there must be an extensive accumulation
of the facts presented in numerous organic bodies ; so,
without a tolerably-complete delineation of mental phenom-
ena of all orders, there can scarcely arise any adequate the-
ory of the mind. Until recently, mental science has been
pursued much as physical science was pursued by the an-
cients : not by drawing conclusions from observations and
experiments, but by drawing them from arbitrary d priori
assumptions. This course, long since abandoned in the one
case with immense advantage, is gradually being abandoned
in the other ; and the treatment of Psychology as a division
of natural history, shows that the abandonment will soon be
complete.

Estimated as a means to higher results, Mr. Bain's work
is of great value. Of its kind it is the most scientific in
conception, the most catholic in spirit, and the most com-
plete in execution. Besides delineating the various classes
of mental phenomena as seen under that stronger light
thrown on them by modern science, it includes in the pic-
ture much which previous writers had omitted — partly
from prejudice, partly from ignorance. We refer more
especially to the participation of bodily organs in mental
changes ; and the addition to the primary mental changes,
of those many secondary ones which the actions of the
bodily organs generate. Mr. Bain has, we believe, been

HIS WORK ESSENTIALLY TRANSITIONAL. 291

the first to appreciate the importance of this element in oui
states of consciousness ; and it is one of his merits that he
shows how constant and large an element ±t is. Further,
the relations of voluntary and involuntary movements are
elucidated in a way that was not possible to writers unac
quainted with the modern doctrine of reflex action. And
beyond this, some of the analytical passages that here and
there occur, contain important ideas.

Valuable, however, as is Mr. Bain's work, we regard
it as essentially transitional. It presents in a digested
form the results of a period of observation ; adds to these
results many well-delineated facts collected by himself;
arranges new and old materials with that more scientific
method which the discipline of our times has fostered ;
and so prepare the way for better generalizations. But
almost of necessity its classifications and conclusions are
provisional. In the growth of each science, not only is
correct observation needful for the formation of true the-
ory; but true theory is needful as a preliminary to cor-
rect observation. Of course we do not intend this as-
sertion to be taken literally ; but as a strong expression of
the fact that the two must advance hand in hand. The
first crude theory or rough classification, based on very
slight knowledge of the phenomena, is requisite as a means
of reducing the phenomena to some kind of order ; and as
supplying a conception with which fresh phenomena may
be compared, and their agreement or disagreement noted.
Incongruities being by and by made manifest by wider ex-
amination of cases, there comes such modification of the
theory as brings it into a nearer correspondence writh the
evidence. This reacts to the further advance of observa-
tion. More extensive and complete observation brings ad-
ditional corrections of theory. And so on till the truth is
reached. In mental science, the systematic collection of
facts having but recently commenced, it is not to be ex

292 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

pected that the results can be at once rightly formulated
All that may be looked for are approximate generalizations
which will presently serve for the better directing of in
quiry. Hence, even were it not now possible to say in what
way it does so, we might be tolerably certain that Mr.
Bain's work bears the stamp of the inchoate state of Psy-
chology.

We think, however, that it will not be difficult to find
in what respects its organization is provisional ; and at the
same time to show what must be the nature of a more
complete organization. We propose here to attempt this :
illustrating our positions from his recently-issued second
volume.

Is it possible to make a true classification without the
aid of analysis ? or must there not be an analytical basis to
every true classification ? Can the real relations of things
be determined by the obvious characteristics of the things ?
or does it not commonly happen that certain hidden
characteristics, on which the obvious ones depend, are
the truly significant ones ? This is the preliminary ques-
tion which a glance at Mr. Bain's scheme of the emotions
suggests.

Though not avowedly, yet by implication, Mr. Bain
assumes that a right conception of the nature, the order,
and the relations of the emotions, may be arrived at by
contemplating their conspicuous objective and subjective
characters, as displayed in the adult. After pointing out
that we lack those means of classification which serve in
the case of the sensations, he says —

u In these circumstances we must turn our attention to the
manner of diffusion of the different passions and emotions, in
order to obtain a basis of classification analogous to the arrange-
ment of the sensations. If what we have already advanced on
that subject be at all well founded, this is the genuine turning

BODILY FEELINGS AND MENTAL STATES. 293

boint of the method to be chosen, for the same mode of diffusion
will always be accompanied by the same mental experience, and
each of the two aspects would identify, and would be evidence
of, the other. There is, therefore, nothing so thoroughly char-
acteristic of any state of feeling as the nature of the diffusive
wave that embodies it, or the various organs specially roused
into action by it, together with the manner of the action* The
only drawback is our comparative ignorance, and our inability
to discern the precise character of the diffusive currents in every
case ; a radical imperfection in the science of mind as constituted
at present.

" Our own consciousness, formerly reckoned the only medium
of knowledge to the mental philosopher, must therefore be still
referred to as a principal means of discriminating the varieties of
human feeling. "We have the power of noting agreement and
difference among our conscious states, and on this we can raise a
structure of classification. We recognise such generalities as
pleasure, pain, love, anger, through the property of mental or
intellectual discrimination that accompanies in our mind the fact
of an emotion. A certain degree of precision is attainable by
this mode of mental comparison and analysis ; the farther we
can carry such precision the better ; but that is no reason why it
should stand alone to the neglect of the corporeal embodiments
through which one mind reveals itself to others. The compan-
ionship of inward feeling with bodily manifestation is a fact of
the human constitution, and deserves to be studied as such ; and
it would be difficult to find a place more appropriate than a
treatise on the mind for setting forth the conjunctions and
sequences traceable in this department of nature. I shall make
no scruple in conjoining with the description of the mental
phenomena the physical appearances, in so far as I am able to
ascertain them.

" There is still one other quarter to be referred to in settling a
complete arrangement of the emotions, namely, the varieties of
human conduct, and the machinery created in subservience to our
common susceptibilities. For example, the vast superstructure of
fine art has its foundations in human feeling, and in rendering an
account of this we are led to recognise the interesting group of
artistic or zesthetic emotions. The same outward reference to

294 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

conduct and creations brings to light the so-called moral sense in
man, whose foundations in the mental system have accordingly to
be examined.

" Combining together these various indications, or sources
of discrimination, — outward objects, diffusive mode or expression,
inward consciousness, resulting conduct and institutions — I adopt
the following arrangement of the families or natural orders of
emotion."

Here, then, are confessedly adopted, as bases of classi-
fication, the most manifest characters of the emotions ; as
discerned subjectively, and objectively. The mode of dif-
fusion of an emotion is one of its outside aspects ; the insti-
tutions it generates form another of its outside aspects ;
and though the peculiarities ,of the emotion as a state of
consciousness, seem to express its intrinsic and ultimate
nature, yet such peculiarities as are perceptible by simple
introspection, must also be classed as superficial peculiari-
ties. It is a familiar fact that various intellectual states of
consciousness turn out, when analyzed, to have natures
widely unlike those which at first appear ; and we believe
the like will prove true of emotional states of conscious-
ness. Just as our concept of space, which is apt to be
thought a simple, undecomposable concept, is yet resolva-
ble into experiences quite different from that state of con-
sciousness which we call space ; so, probably, the sentiment
of affection or reverence is compounded of elements that
are severally distinct from the whole which they make up.
And much as a classification of our ideas which dealt with
the idea of space as though it were ultimate, would be a
classification of ideas by their externals ; so, a classification
of our emotions, which, regarding them as simple, describes
their aspects in ordinary consciousness, is a classification of
emotions by their externals.

Thus, then, Mr. Bain's grouping is throughout deter-
mined by the most manifest attributes — those objectively

IM PERFECT BASIS OF HIS CLASSIFICATION. 295

displayed in the natural language of the emotions, and
in the social phenomena that result from them, and those
subjectively displayed in the aspects the emotions assume
in an analytical consciousness. And the question is — Can
they be correctly grouped after this method ?

We think not; and had Mr. Bain carried farther an idea
with which he has set out, he would probably have seen
that they cannot. As already said, he avowedly adopts
" the natural-history-method : " not only referring to it in
his preface, but in his first chapter giving examples of
botanical and zoological classifications, as illustrating the
mode in which he proposes to deal with the emotions.
This we conceive to be a philosophical conception ; and we
have only to regret that Mr. Bain has overlooked some of
its most important implications. For in what has essentially
consisted the progress of natural-history-classification ? In
the abandonment of grouping by external, conspicuous
characters ; and in the making of certain internal, but all-
essential characters, the bases of groups. Whales are not
now ranged along with fish, because in their general forms
and habits of life they resemble fish ; but they are ranged
with mammals, because the type of their organization, as
ascertained by dissection, corresponds with that of the mam-
mals. No longer considered as sea-weeds in virtue of their
forms and modes of growth, zoophytes are now shown, by
examination of their economy, to belong to the animal
kingdom.

It is found, then, that the discovery of real relation-
ships involves analysis. It has turned out that the earlier
classifications, guided by general resemblances, though
containing much truth, and though very useful provision-
ally, were yet in many cases radically wrong ; and that the
true affinities of organisms, and the true homologies of
their parts, are to be made out on'y by examining their
bidden structures. Another fact of great significance io

296 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

the history of classification is also to be noted. Very frc
quently the kinship of an organism cannot be made out
even by exhaustive analysis, if that analysis is confined to
the adult structure. In many cases it is needful to ex-
amine the structure in its earlier stages ; and even in its
embryonic stage. So difficult was it, for instance, to de-
termine the true position of the Cirrhipedia among animals,
by examining mature individuals only, that Cuvier errone-
ously classed them with Mollusca, even after dissecting
them ; and not until their early forms were discovered,
were they clearly proved to belong to the Crustacea. So
important, indeed, is the study of development as a means
to classification, that the first zoologists now hold it to be
the only absolute criterion.

Here, then, in the advance of natural-history- classifica-
tion, are two fundamental facts, which should be borne in
mind when classifying the emotions. If, as Mr. Bain right-
ly assumes, the emotions are to be grouped after the natu-
ral-history-method ; then it should be the natural history-
method in its complete form, and not in its rude form.
Mr. Bain will doubtless agree in the position, that a cor-
rect account of the emotions in their natures and relations,
must correspond with a correct account of the nervous
system — must form another side of the same ultimate facts.
Structure and function must necessarily harmonize. Struc-
tures which have with each other certain ultimate connex-
ions, must have functions that have answering connexions.
Structures that have arisen in certain ways, must have func-
tions that have arisen in parallel ways. And hence if anal-
ysis and development are needful for the right interpreta-
tion of structures, they must be needful for the right inter-
pretation of functions. Just as a scientific description of
the digestive organs, must include not only their obvious
forms and connexions, but their microscopic characters,
acl also the w xys in which they severally result by differ

HOW THE EMOTIONS ARE TO BE ANALYZED. 297

entiation from the primitive mucous membrane ; so must
a scientific account of the nervous system, include its gen-
eral arrangements, its minute structure, and its mode of
evolution ; and so must a scientific account of nervous ac-
tions, include the answering three elements. Alike in class-
ing separate organisms, and in classing the parts of the same
organism, the complete natural-history-method involves
ultimate analysis, aided by development ; and Mr. Bain, in
not basing his classification of the emotions on characters
reached through these aids, has fallen short of the concep-
tion with which he set out.

" But," it will perhaps be asked, " how are the emotions
to be analyzed, and their modes of evolution to be ascer-
tained ? Different animals, and different organs of the
same animal, may readily be compared in their internal and
microscopic structures, as also in their developments ; but
functions, and especially such functions as the emotions, do
not admit of like comparisons."

It must be admitted that the application of these meth-
ods is here by no means so easy. Though we can note dif-
ferences and similarities between the internal formations of
two animals ; it is difficult to contrast the mental states of
two animals. Though the true morphological relations of
organs may be made out by the observations of embryos ;
yet, where such organs are inactive before birth, we cannot
completely trace the history of their actions. Obviously,
too, the pursuance of inquiries of the kind indicated, raises
questions which science is not yet prepared to answer ; as,
for instance — Whether all nervous functions, in common
with all other functions, arise by gradual differentiations,
as their organs do ? Whether the emotions are, therefore,
to be regarded as divergent modes of action, that have be-
come unlike by successive modifications? Whether, as
two organs which originally budded out of the same mem«
brane, have not only become different as they developed,

298 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

but have also severally become compound internally, though
externally simple : so two emotions, simple and near akin
in their roots, may not only have grown unlike, but may
also have grown involved in their natures, though seeming
homogeneous to consciousness. And here, indeed, in the
inability of existing science to answer these questions which
underlie a true psychological classification, we see how
purely provisional any present classification is likely to be.

Nevertheless, even now, classification may be aided by
development and ultimate analysis to a considerable extent ;
and the defect in Mr. Bain's work is, that he has not syste-
matically availed himself of them as far as possible. Thus
we may, in the first place, study the evolution of the emo-
tions up through the various grades of the animal kingdom :
observing which of them are earliest and exist with the
lowest organization and intelligence ; in what order the
others accompany higher endowments ; and how they are
severally related to the conditions of life. In the second
place, we may note the emotional differences between
the lower and the higher human races — may regard as
earlier and simpler those feelings which are common to
both, and as later and more compound those which are
characteristic of the most civilized. In the third place, we
may observe the order in which the emotions unfold during
the progress from infancy to maturity. And lastly, compar-
ing these three kinds of emotional development, displayed
in the ascending grades of the animal kingdom, in the ad-
vance of the civilized races, and in individual history, we
may see in what respects they harmonize, and what are the
implied general truths.

Having gathered together and generalized these sever-
sL classes of facts, analysis of the emotions would be made
easier. Setting out with the unquestionable assumption,
that every new form of emotion making its appearance in
the individual or the race, is a modification of some pre-ex

ETOLUTION OF THE EAIOTIONS. 299

\sting emotion, or a compounding of several pre-existing
emotions; we should be greatly aided by knowing what
always are the pre-existing emotions. When, for example,
we find that very few if any of the lower animals show any
love of accumulation, and that this feeling is absent in in-
fancy— when we see that an infant in arms exhibits anger,
fear, wonder, while yet it manifests no desire of permanent
possession, and that a brute which has no acquisitive emotion
can nevertheless feel attachment, jealousy, love of approba-
tion ; we may suspect that the feeling which property satis-
fies, is compounded out of simpler and deeper feelings.
We may conclude that as, when a dog hides a bone, there
must exist in him a prospective gratification of hunger ; so
there must similarly at first, in all cases where anything is
secured or taken possession of, exist an ideal excitement of
the feeling which that thing will gratify. We may further
conclude that when the intelligence is such that a variety
of objects come to be utilized for different purposes — when,
as among savages, divers wants are satisfied through the ar-
ticles appropriated for weapons, shelter, clothing, ornament ;
the act of appropriating comes to be one constantly involv-
ing agreeable associations, and one which is therefore pleas-
urable, irrespective of the end subserved. And when, as
in civilized life, the property acquired is of a kind not con-
ducing to one order of gratifications, but is capable of ad
ministering to all gratifications, the pleasure of acquiring
property grows more distinct from each of the various
pleasures subserved — is more completely differentiated into
a separate emotion.

This illustration, roughly as it is sketched, will show
what we mean by the use of comparative psychology in
aid of classification. Ascertaining by induction the actual
order of evolution of the emotions, we are led to suspect
this to be their order of successive dependence ; and are so
led to recognize their order of ascending complexity ; and
by consequence their true groupings-

300 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

Thus, in the very process of arranging the emotions
into grades, beginning with those involved in the lowest
forms of conscious activity and end with those peculiar to
the adult civilized man, the way is opened for that ultimate
analysis which alone can lead us to the true science of the
matter. For when we find both that there exist in a man
feelings which do not exist in a child, and that the Euro-
pean is characterized by some sentiments which are wholly
or in a great part absent from the savage — when we see
that, besides the new emotions that arise spontaneously as
the individual becomes completely organized, there are new
emotions making their appearance in the more advanced
divisions of our race ; we are led to ask— How are new
emotions generated ? The lowest savages have not even
the ideas of justice or mercy : they have neither words for
them nor can they be made to conceive them ; and the man-
ifestation of them by Europeans they ascribe to fear or
cunning. There are aesthetic emotions common among
ourselves, that are scarcely in any degree experienced by
some inferior races ; as, for instance, those produced by
music. To which instances may be added the less marked
but more numerous contrasts that exist between civilized
races in the degrees of their several emotions. And if it
is manifest, both that all the emotions are capable of being
permanently modified in the course of successive genera-
tions, and that what must be classed as new emotions may
be brought into existence ; then it follows that nothing like
a true conception of the emotions is to be obtained, until we
understand how they are evolved.

Comparative psychology, while it raises this inquiry,
prepares the way for answering it. When observing the
differences between races, we can scarcely fail to observe
also how these differences correspond with differences in their
conditions of existence, and therefore in their daily experi*
ences. ISTote the contrast between the circumstances and be-

GENESIS OF NEW EMOTIONS. 301

tween the emotional natures of savage and civilized. Among
he lowest races of men, love of property stimulates to the
obtainment only of such things as satisfy immediate desires
or desires of the immediate future. Improvidence is the
rule : there is little effort to meet remote contingencies. But
the growth of established societies, having gradually given
security of possession, there has been an increasing tendency
to provide for coming years : there has been a constant
exercise of the feeling which is satisfied by a provision for
the future ; and there has been a growth of this feeling so
great that it now prompts accumulation to an extent be-
yond what is needful. Note, again, that under the disci-
pline of social life — under a comparative abstinence from
aggressive actions, and a performance of those mutually-
serviceable actions implied by the division of labour —
there has been a development of those gentle emotions of
which inferior races exhibit but the rudiments. Savages
delight in giving pain rather than pleasure — are almost de-
void of sympathy. While among ourselves philanthropy
organizes itself in laws, establishes numerous institutions,
and dictates countless private benefactions.

From which and other like facts, does it not seem an
unavoidable inference that new emotions are developed by
new experiences — new habits of life ? All are familiar with
the truth, that in the individual, each feeling maybe strength-
ened by performing those actions which it prompts ; and to
say that the feeling is strengthened, is to say that it is in
part made by these actions. We know further, that not
unfrequently, individuals, by persistence in special courses
of conduct, acquire special likings for such courses disagree-
able as these may be to others ; and these whims, or mor-
bid tastes, imply incipient emotions corresponding to these
special activities. We know that emotional characteristics,
in common with all others, are hereditary ; and the differ-
ences between civilized nations descended from the same

302 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

stock, show us the cumulative results of small modifications
hereditarily transmitted. And when we see that between
savage and civilized races, which diverged from each other
in the remote past, and have for a hundred generations fol-
lowed modes of life becoming ever more unlike, there ex-
ist still greater emotional contrasts ; may we not infer that
the more or less distinct emotions which characterize civil-
ized races, are the organized results of certain daily-repeat-
ed combinations of mental states which social life involves ?
Must we not say that habits not only modify emotions in
the individual, and not only beget tendencies to like
habits and accompanying emotions in descendants, but that
when the conditions of the race make the habits per-
sistent, this progressive modification may go on to the ex-
tent of producing emotions so far distinct as to seem new ?
And if so, we may suspect that such new emotions, and
by implication all emotions analytically considered, consist
of aggregated and consolidated groups of those simpler
feelings which habitually occur together in experience :
that they result from combined experiences, and are con-
stituted of them.

When, in the circumstances of any race, some one kind of
action or set of actions, sensation or set of sensations, is usual-
ly followed, or accompanied by, various other sets of actions
or sensations, and so entails a large mass of pleasurable or
painful states of consciousness ; these, by frequent repetition,
become so connected together that the initial action or sensa-
tion brings the ideas of all the rest crowding into conscious-
ness : producing, in a degree, the pleasures or pains that
have before been felt in reality. And when this relation,
besides being frequently repeated in the individual, occurs
in successive generations, all the many nervous actions in-
volved tend to grow organically connected. They become
incipiently reflex ; and on the occurrence of the appropriate
stimulus, the whole nervous apparatus which in past gener

GROWTH OF EMOTIONS IN ANIMALS. 303

ations was brought into activity by this stimulus, becomes
nascently excited. Even while yet there have been no indi-
vidual experiences, a vague feeling of pleasure or pain is
produced ; constituting what we may call the body of the
emotion. And when the experiences of past generations
come to be repeated in the individual, the emotion gains
both strength and defiuiteness ; and is accompanied by the
appropriate specific ideas.

This view of the matter, which we believe the estab-
lished truths of Physiology and Psychology unite in indi-
cating, and which is the view that generalizes the pheno-
mena of habit, of national characteristics, of civilization in
its moral aspects, at the same time that it gives us a con-
ception of emotion in its origin and ultimate nature, may
be illustrated from the mental modifications undergone by
animals.

It is well-known that on newly-discovered lands not in-
habited by man, birds are so devoid of fear as to allow
themselves to be knocked over with sticks ; but that in the
course of generations, they acquire such a dread of man as
to fly on his approach ; and that this dread is manifested by
young as well as old. Now unless this change be ascribed
to the killing-off of the least fearful, and the preservation
and multiplication of the more fearful, which, considering
the comparatively small number killed by man, is an inade-
quate cause ; it must be ascribed to accumulated expe-
riences ; and each experience must be held vO have a share
in producing it. "We must conclude that in each bird that
escapes with injuries inflicted by man, or is alarmed by the
outcries of other members of the flock (gregarious crea-
tures of any intelligence being necessarily more or less
sympathetic), there is established an association of ideas
between the human aspect and the pains, direct and indi-
rect, suffered from human agency. And we must further
conc-ude, that the state of consciousness which impels the

304 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

bird to take flight, is at first nothing more than an idea*
reproduction of those painful impressions which before fol
lowed man's approach ; that such ideal reproduction be-
comes more vivid and more massive as the painful expe-
riences, direct or sympathetic, increase ; and that thus the
emotion m its incipient state, is nothing else than an aggre-
gation of the revived pains before experienced.

As, in the course of generations, the young birds of this
race begin to display a fear of man before yet they have
been injured by him ; it is an unavoidable inference that
the nervous system of the race has been organically modi-
fied by these experiences : we have no choice but to con-
clude that when a young bird is thus led to fly, it is be-
cause the impression produced on its senses by the ap-
proaching man, entails, through an incipiently-reflex action
a partial excitement of all those nerves which in its ances-
tors had been excited under the like conditions ; that this
partial excitement has its accompanying painful conscious-
ness ; and that the vague painful consciousness thus arising,
constitutes emotion proper — emotion undecomposable into
specific experiences ■, and therefore seemingly homogeneous.

If such be the explanation of the fact in this case, then
it is in all cases. If emotion is so generated here, then it
is so generated throughout. We must perforce conclude
that the emotional modifications displayed by different na-
tions, and those higher emotions by which civilized are dis-
tinguished from savage, are to be accounted for on the
same principle. And concluding this, we are led strongly
to suspect that the emotions in general have severally thus
originated.

Perhaps we have now made sufficiently clear what we
mean by the study of the emotions through analysis and
development. We have aimed to justify the positions that,
without analysis aided by development, there cannot be a
true natural history of the emotions ; and that a natural

DEVELOPMENT OF THE EMOTIONS NEGLECTED. 305

history of the emotions based on external characters, can
be but provisional. We think that Mr. Bain, in confining
himself to an account of the emotions as they exist in the
adult civilized man, has neglected those classes of facts out
of which the science of the matter must chiefly be built.
It is true that he has treated of habits as modifying emo-
tions in the individual ; but he has not recognized the fact,
that where conditions render habits persistent in successive
generations, such modifications are cumulative : he has not
hinted that the modifications produced by habit are emo
tions in the making. It is true, also, that he occasionally
refers to the characteristics of children ; but he does not
systematically trace the changes through which childhood
passes into manhood, as throwing light on the order and
genesis of the emotions. It is further true that he here
and there refers to national traits in illustration of his sub-
ject ; but these stand as isolated facts, having no general
significance : there is no hint of any relation between them
and the national circumstances ; while all those many moral
contrasts between lower and higher races which throw
great light on classification, are passed over. And once
more, it is true that many passages of his work, and some-
times, indeed, whole sections of it, are analytical ; but his
analyses are incidental — they do not underlie his entire
scheme, but are here and there added to it. In brief, he
has written a Descriptive Psychology, which does not ap-
peal to Comparative Psychology and Analytical Psychol-
ogy for its leading ideas. And in doing this, he has omit-
ted much that should be included in a natural history of
the mind ; while to that part of the subject with which he
has dealt, he has given a necessarily-imperfect organization.

Even leaving out of view the absence of those methods
and criteria on which we have been insisting, it appears to
as that meritorious as is Mr. Bain's book in its details, it is

306 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

defective in some of its leading ideas. The first para
graphs of his first chapter, quite startled us by the strange-
ness of their definitions — a strangeness which can scarcely
be ascribed to laxity of expression. The paragraphs run
thus : —

" Mind is comprised under three heads — Emotion, "Volition,
and Intellect.

" Emotion is the name here used to comprehend all that is un-
derstood by feelings, states of feeling, pleasures, pains, passions,
sentiments, affections. Consciousness, and conscious states also
for the most part denote modes of emotion, although there is such
a thing as the Intellectual consciousness.

" Volition, on the other hand, indicates the great fact that our
Pleasures and Pains, which are not the whole of our emotions,
prompt us to action, or stimulate the active machinery of the liv-
ing framework to perform such operations as procure the first and
abate the last. To withdraw from a scalding heat and cling to a
gentle warmth, are exercises of volition."

The last of these definitions, which we may most con-
veniently take first, seems to us very faulty. We cannot
but feel astonished that Mr. Bain, familiar as he is with the
phenomena of reflex action, should have so expressed him-
self as to include a great part of them along with the phe-
nomena of volition. He seems to be ignoring the discrimi-
nations of modern science, and returning to the vague con-
ceptions of the past — nay more, he is comprehending under
volition what even the popular speech would hardly bring
under it. If you were to blame any one for snatching his
foot from the scalding water into which he had inadver -
tently put it, he would tell you that he could not help it ;
and his reply would be indorsed by the general experience,
that the withdrawal of a limb from contact with something
extremely hot, is quite involuntary — that it takes place not
only without volition, but in defiance of an effort of will to
maintain the contact. How, then, can that be instanced as

VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY ACTIONS. 307

an example of volition, which occurs even when volition is
antagonistic ? We are quite aware that it is impossible to
draw any absolute line of demarcation between automatic
actions and actions which are not automatic. Doubtless
we may pass gradually from the purely reflex, through the
consensual, to the voluntary. Taking the case Mr. Bain
cites, it is manifest that from a heat of such moderate de-
gree that the withdrawal from it is wholly voluntary, we
may advance by infinitevsimal steps to a heat which compels
involuntary withdrawal ; and that there is a stage at whioh
the voluntary and involuntary actions are mixed. But the
difficulty of absolute discrimination is no reason for neg-
lecting the broad general contrast ; any more than it is for
confounding light with darkness. If we are to include as
examples of volition, ail cases in which pleasures and pains
" stimulate the active machinery of the living framework
to perform such operations as procure the first and abate
the last," then we must consider sneezing and coughing, as
examples of volition ; and Mr. Bain surely cannot mean
this. Indeed, we must confess ourselves at a loss. On the
one hand if he does not mean it, his expression is lax to a
degree that surprises us in so careful a writer. On the
other hand, if he does mean it, we cannot understand his
point of view.

A parallel criticism applies to his definition of Emotion.
Here, too, he has departed from the ordinary acceptation
of the word ; and, as we think, in the wrong direction.
Whatever may be the interpretation that is justified by its
derivation, the word Emotion has come generally to mean
that kind of feeling which is not a direct result of any ac-
tion on the organism ; but is either an indirect result of
such action, or arises quite apart from such action. It is
used to indicate those sentient states which are independ-
ently generated in consciousness ; as distinguished from
those generated in our corporeal framework, and known as

308 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

sensations. Now this distinction, tacitly made in common
speech, is one which Psychology cannot well reject ; but one
which it must adopt, and to which it must give scientific
precision. Mr. Bain, however, appears to ignore any such
distinction. Under the term " emotion,'' he includes not
only passions, sentiments, affections, but all " feelings, states
of feeling, pleasures, pains," — that is, all sensations. This
does not appear to be a mere lapse of expression ; for when,
in the opening sentence, he asserts that " mind is comprised
under the three heads — Emotion, Volition, and Intellect,"
he of necessity implies that sensation is included under one
of these heads ; and as it cannot be included under Volition
or Intellect, it must be classed with Emotion : as it clearly
is in the next sentence.

We cannot but think this is a retrograde step. Though
distinctions which have been established in popular thought
and language, are not unfrequently merged in the higher
generalizations of science (as, for instance, when crabs and
worms are grouped together in the sub-kingdom Annu-
losa y) yet science very generally recognizes the validity of
these distinctions, as real though not fundamental. And so
in the present case. Such community as analysis discloses
between sensation and emotion, must not shut out the
broad contrast that exists between them. If there needs a
wider word, as there does, to signify any sentient state
whatever; then we may fitly adopt for this purpose the
word currently so used, namely, u Feeling." And consid-
ering as Feelings all that great division of mental states
which we do not class as Cognitions, may then separate
this great division into the two orders, Sensations and Emo-
tions.

And here we may, before concluding, briefly indicate
the leading outlines of a classification which reduces this
distinction to a scientific form, and developes it somewhat

CLASSIFICATION OF THE COGNITIONS. 309

further — a classification which, while suggested by certain
fundamental traits reached without a very lengthened in-
quiry, is yet, we believe, in harmony with that disclosed by
detailed analysis.

Leaving out of view the Will, which is a simple homo-
geneous mental state, forming the link between feeling
and action, and not admitting of subdivisions ; our states of
consciousness fall into two great classes — Cognitions and
Feelings.

Cognitions, or those modes of mind in which we are
occupied with the relations that subsist among our feelings,
are divisible into four great sub-classes.

Presentative cognitions / or those in which conscious-
ness is occupied in localizing a sensation impressed on the
organism — occupied, that is, with the relation between this
presented mental state and those other presented mental
states which make up our consciousness of the part affected:
as when we cut ourselves.

JPresentative-representative cognitions y or those in
which consciousness is occupied with the relation between
a sensation or group of sensations and the representa-
tions of those various other sensations that accompany it
in experience. This is what we commonly call perception
— an act in which, along with certain impressions presented
to consciousness, there arise in consciousness the ideas of
certain other impressions ordinarily connected with the
presented ones : as when its visible form and colour,
lead us to mentally endow an orange with all its other
attributes.

Representative cognitions y or those in which conscious-
ness is occupied with the relations among ideas or repre-
sented sensations : as in all acts of recollection.

He -representative cognitions y or those in which the
occupation of consciousness is not by representation of
special relations, that have before been presented to con

310 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

Bciousness; but those in which such represented special
relations are thought of merely as comprehended in a gen-
eral relation — those in which the concrete relations once
experienced, in so far as they become objects of conscious-
ness at all, are incidentally represented, along with the
abstract relation which formulates them. The ideas result-
ing from this abstraction, do not themselves represent ac-
tual experiences ; but are symbols which stand for groups
of such actual experiences — represent aggregates of repre-
sentations. And thus they may be called re-represen-
tative cognitions. It is clear that the process of re-repre-
sentation is carried to higher stages, as the thought be-
comes more abstract.

Feelings, or those modes of mind in which we are
occupied, not with the relations subsisting between our sen-
tient states, but with the sentient states themselves, are di-
visible into four parallel sub-classes.

Presentative feelings, ordinarily called sensations, are
those mental states in which, instead of regarding a corpo-
real impression as of this or that kind, or as located here or
there, we contemplate it in itself as pleasure or pain : as
when eating.

Presentative-representative feelings, embracing a great
part of what we commonly call emotions, are those in
which a sensation, or group of sensations or group of sen-
sations and ideas, arouses a vast aggregation of represented
sensations ; partly of individual experience, but chiefly
deeper than individual experience, and, consequently, in-
definite. The emotion of terror may serve as an example.
Along with certain impressions made on the eyes or ears,
or both, are recalled in consciousness many of the pains to
which such impressions have before been the antecedents •
and when the relation between such impressions and such
pains has been habitual in the race, the definite ideas of
auch pains which individual experience has given, are

CLASSIFICATION OF THE FEELINGS. 311

accompanied by the indefinite pains that result from inherit-
ed experience — vague feelings which we may call organic
representations. In an infant, crying at a strange sight or
sound while yet in the nurse's arms, we see these organic
representations called into existence in the shape of dim
discomfort, to which individual experience has yet given
no specific outlines.

Representative feelings, comprehending the ideas of
the feelings above classed, when they are called up apart
from the appropriate external excitements. As instances
of these may be named the feelings with which the descrip-
tive poet writes, and which are aroused in the minds of his
readers.

Re-representative feelings, under which head are included
those more complex sentient states that are less the direct
results of external excitements than the indirect or reflex
results of them. The love of property is a feeling of this
kind. It is awakened not by the presence of any special
object, but by ownable objects at large ; and it is not from
the mere presence of such object, but from a certain ideal
relation to them, that it arises. As before shown (p. 311)
it consists, not of the represented advantages of possessing
this or that, but of the represented advantages of posses-
sion in general — is not made up of certain concrete repre-
sentations, but of the abstracts of many concrete represen-
tations ; and so is re-representative. The higher senti-
ments, as that of justice, are still more completely of this
nature. Here the sentient state is compounded out of
sentient states that are themselves wholly, or almost wholly,
re-representative : it involves representations of those low
er emotions which are produced by the possession of prop-
erty, by freedom of action, etc.; and thus is re-representa-
tive in a higher degree.

This classification, here roughly indicated and capable
Df further expansion, will be found in harmony with the re-
15

312 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.

suits of detailed analysis aided by development. Whether
we trace mental progression through the grades of the ani-
mal kingdom, through the grades of mankind, or through
the stages of individual growth ; it is obvious that the ad
vance, alike in cognitions and feelings, is, and must be,
from the presentative to the more and more remotely rep-
resentative. It is undeniable that intelligence ascends
from those simple perceptions in which consciousness is
occupied in localizing and classifying sensations, to percep-
tions more and more compound, to simple reasoning, to
reasoning more and more complex and abstract — more
and more remote from sensatiou. And in the evolution of
feelings, there is a parallel series of steps. Simple sensa-
tions ; sensations combined together ; sensations combined
with represented sensations ; represented sensations organ-
ized into groups, in which their separate characters are
very much merged ; representations of these representa-
tive groups, in which the original components have be-
come still more vague. In both cases, the progress
has necessarily been from the simple and concrete to
the complex and abstract : and as with the cognitions,
so with the feelings, this must be the basis of classifi-
cation.

The space here occupied with criticisms on Mr. Bain's
work, we might have filled with exposition and eulogy, had
we thought this the more important. Though we have
freely pointed out what we conceive to be its defects, let it
not be inferred that we question its great merits. We re-
peat that, as a natural history of the mind, we believe it to
be the best yet produced. It is a most valuable collection
of carefully-elaborated materials. Perhaps we cannot bet-
ter express our sense of its worth, than by saying that, to
those who hereafter give to this branch of Psychology a
thoroughly scientific organization, Mr. Bain's book will be
indispensable.

VIII
ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

a"^HAT proclivity to generalization which is possessed in
_ greater or less degree by all minds, and without which
indeed, intelligence cannot exist, has unavoidable incon-
veniences. Through it alone can truth be reached ; and
yet it almost inevitably betrays into error. But for the
tendency to predicate of every other case, that which has
been found in the observed cases, there could be no ra-
tional thinking ; and yet by this indispensable tendency,
men are perpetually led to found, on limited experience,
propositions which they wrongly assume to be universal or
absolute. In one sense, however, this can scarcely be re-
garded as an evil; for without premature generalizations
the true generalization would never be arrived at. If we
waited till all the facts were accumulated before trying to
formulate them, the vast unorganized mass would be un-
manageable. Only by provisional grouping can they be
brought into such order as to be dealt with ; and this pro-
visional grouping is but another name for premature gen-
eralization.

How uniformly men follow this course, and how need-
ful the errors are as steps to truth, is well illustrated in the
history of Astronomy. The heavenly bodies move round

314 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

the Earth in circles, said the earliest observers : led partly
by the appearances, and partly by their experiences of cen-
tral motions in terrestrial objects, with which, as all circu-
lar, they classed the celestial motions from lack of any
alternative conception. Without this provisional belief,
wrong as it was, there could not have been that compari-
son of positions which showed that the motions are not
representable by circles ; and which led to the hypothesis
of epicycles and eccentrics. Only by the aid of this hy-
pothesis, equally untrue, but capable of accounting more
nearly for the appearances, and so of inducing more ac-
curate observations — only thus did it become possible for
Copernicus to show that the heliocentric theory is more
feasible than the geocentric theory ; or for Kepler to show
that the planets move round the sun in ellipses. Yet
again, without the aid of this approximate truth discovered
by Kepler, Newton could not have established that general
law from which it follows, that the motion of a heavenly
body round its centre of gravity is not necessarily in an
ellipse, but may be in any conic section. And lastly, it
was only after the law of gravitation had been verified,
that it became possible to determine the actual courses of
planets, satellites, and comets ; and to prove that, in con-
sequence of perturbations, their orbits always deviate, more
or less, from regular curves. Thus, there followed one
another five provisional theories of the Solar System,
before the sixth and absolutely true theory was reached.
In which five provisional theories, each for a time held
as final, we may trace both the tendency men have to
leap from scanty data to wide generalizations, that are
either untrue or but partially true ; and the necessity
there is for these transitional generalizations as steps to the
final one.

In the progress of geological speculation the same laws
of thought are clearly displayed. We have dogmas that

HOW THE SCIENCE HAS BEEN DEVELOPED. 315

were more than half false, passing current for a time as
universal truths. We have evidence collected in proof of
these dogmas ; by and by. a colligation of facts in antagon-
ism with them ; and eventually a consequent modification.
In conformity with this somewhat improved hypothesis, we
Lave a better classification of facts ; a greater power of
arranging and interpreting the new facts now rapidly
gathered together ; and further resulting corrections of
hypothesis. Being, as we are at present, in the midst of
this process, it is not possible to give an adequate account
of the development of geological science as thus regarded :
the earlier stages are alone known to us. "Not only, how-
ever, is it interesting to observe how the more advanced
views now received respecting the Earth's history, have
been evolved out of the crude views which preceded them;
but we shall find it extremely instructive to observe this.
We shall see how greatly the old ideas still sway, both the
general mind, and the minds of geologists themselves.
We shall see how the kind of evidence that has in part
abolished these old ideas, is still daily accumulating, and
threatens to make other like revolutions. In brief, we
shall see whereabouts we are in the elaboration of a true
theory of the Earth ; and, seeing our whereabouts, shall be
the better able to judge, among various conflicting opinions,
which best conform to the ascertained direction of geologi-
cal discovery.

It is alike needless and impracticable here to enumerate
the many speculations which were in earlier ages propound-
ed by acute men — speculations some of which contained
portions of truth. Falling in unfit times, these speculationss
did not germinate; and hence do not concern us. We
have nothing to do with ideas, however good, out of which
no science grew ; but only with those which gave origin to
the system of Geology that now exists. We therefore be-
gin with Werner

316 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

Taking for data the appearances of the Earth's crust ic
a. narrow district of Germany ; observing the constant or-
der of superposition of strata, and their respective physical
characters ; "Werner drew the inference that strata of like
characters succeeded each other in like order over the en-
tire surface of the Earth. And seeing, from the laminated
structure of many formations and the organic remains con-
tained in others, that they were sedimentary ; he further
inferred that these universal strata had been in succession
precipitated from a chaotic menstruum which once cov-
ered our planet. Thus, on a very incomplete acquaintance
with a thousandth part of the Earth's crust, he based a
sweeping generalization applying to the whole of it. This
Neptunist hypothesis, mark, borne out though it seemed to
be by the most conspicuous surrounding facts, was quite
untenable if analyzed. That a universal chaotic menstruum
should deposit, one after another, numerous sharply-defined
strata, differing from each other in composition, is incom-
prehensible. That the strata so deposited should contain
the remains of plants and animals, which could not have
lived under the supposed conditions, is still more incom-
prehensible. Physically absurd, however, as was this hypo-
thesis, it recognized, though under a distorted form, one
of the great agencies of geological change — that of water.
It served also to express the fact that the formations of the
Earth's crust stand in some kind of order. Further, it did
a little towards supplying a nomenclature, without which
much progress was impossible. Lastly, it furnished a stand-
ard with which successions of strata in various regions
could be compared, the differences noted, and the actual
sections tabulated. It was the first provisional generaliza-
tion ; and was useful, if not indispensable, as a step to truer
ones.

Following this rude conception, which ascribed geologi-
cal phenomena to one agency, acting during one primeval

THE0EIE8 OF WERNER AND HUTTON. 317

epoch, there came a greatly-improved conception, which
ascribed them to two agencies, acting alternately during
successive epochs. Hutton, perceiving that sedimentary
deposits were still being formed at the bottom of the sea
from the detritus carried down by rivers ; perceiving, fur-
ther, that the strata of which the visible surface chiefly con-
sists, bore marks of having been similarly formed out of
pre-existing land ; and inferring that these strata could
have become land only by upheaval after their deposit ;
concluded that throughout an indefinite past, there had
been periodic convulsions, by which continents were raised,
with intervening eras of repose, during which such continents
were worn down and transformed into new marine strata,
fated to be in their turns elevated above the surface of the
ocean. And finding that igneous action, to which sundry
earlier geologists had ascribed basaltic rocks, was in count-
less places a source of disturbance, he taught that from it
resulted these periodic convulsions. In this theory we see :
— first, that the previously-recognized agency of water was
conceived to act, not as by Werner, after a manner of
which we have no experience, but after a manner daily dis-
played to us ; and second, that the igneous agency, before
considered only as a cause of special formations, was rec-
ognized as a universal agency, but assumed to act in an
unproved way. Werner's sole process, Hutton developed
from the catastrophic and inexplicable into the uniform and
explicable ; while that antagonistic second process, of
which he first adequately estimated the importance, was
regarded by him as a catastrophic one, and was not assimi-
lated to known processes — not explained. We have here
to note, however, that the facts collected and provisionally
arranged in conformity with Werner's theory, served,
after a time, to establish Hutton's more rational theory
— in so far, at least, as aqueous formations, are concerned ;
cvhile the doctrine of periodic subterranean convulsions,

318

ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

crudely as it was conceived by Hutton, was a temporary
generalization needful as a step towards the theory of igne-
ous action.

Since Hutton's time, the development of geological
thought has gone still further in the same direction. These
early sweeping doctrines have received additional qualifica-
tions. It has been discovered that more numerous and
more heterogeneous agencies have been at work, than was
at first believed. The igneous hypothesis has been ration-
alized, as the aqueous one had previously been : the gratui-
tous assumption of vast elevations suddenly occurring after
long intervals of quiescence, has grown into the consistent
theory, that islands and continents are the accumulated re-
sults of successive small upheavals, like those experienced
in ordinary earthquakes.

To speak more specifically, we find, in the first place,
that instead of assuming the denudation produced by rain
and rivers to be the sole means of wearing down lands and
producing their irregularities of surface, geologists now
see that denudation is only a part-cause of such irregulari-
ties ; and further, that the new strata deposited at the bot-
tom of the sea, are not the products of river-sediment sole-
ly, but are in part due to the action of waves and tidal cur-
rents on the coasts. In the second place, we find that Hut-
ton's conception of upheaval by subterranean forces, has not
only been modified by assimilating these subterranean forces
to ordinary earthquake-forces; but modern inquiries have
shown that, besides elevations of surface, subsidences are thus
produced ; that local upheavals, as well as the general up-
heavals, which raise continents, come within the same
category ; and that all these changes are probably con-
sequent on the progressive collapse of the Earth's crust
upon its cooling and contracting nucleus — the only ade-
quate cause. In the third place, we find that beyond
these two great antagonist agencies, modern Geology re*

PEOGEESS OF GEOLOGIC THEORY 319

cognises sundry minor ones : as those of glaciers and ice*
bergs ; those of coral-polypes ; those of Protozoa having
siliceous or calcareous shells — each of which agencies, insig-
nificant as it seems, is found capable of slowly working
terrestrial changes of considerable magnitude. Thus, then,
the recent progress of Geology has been a still further de-
parture from primitive conceptions. Instead of one cata-
strophic cause, once in universal action, as supposed by
Werner — instead of one general continuous cause, antago-
nized at long intervals by a catastrophic cause, as taught
by Hutton ; we now recognize several causes, all more or
less general and continuous. We no longer resort to hy-
pothetical agencies to explain the phenomena displayed by
the Earth's crust ; but we are day by day more clearly per-
ceiving that these phenomena have arisen from forces like
those now at work, which have acted in all varieties of
combination, through immeasurable periods of time.

Having thus briefly traced the evolution of geologic
science, and noted its present form, let us go on to observe
the way in which it is still swayed by the crude hypotheses
it set out with ; so that even now, old doctrines that are
abandoned as untenable in theory, continue in practice to
mould the ideas of geologists, and to foster sundry beliefs
that are logically indefensible. We shall see, both how
those simple sweeping conceptions with which the science
commenced, are those which every student is apt at first to
seize hold of, and how several influences conspire to main-
tain the twist thus resulting — how the original nomencla-
ture of periods and formations necessarily keeps alive the
original implications ; and how the need for arranging new
data in some order, naturally results in their being thrust
into the old classification, unless their incongruity with it is
very glaring. A few facts will best prepare the way for
criticism.

320 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

Up to 1839 it was inferred, from their crystalline char-
acter, that the metamorphic rocks of Anglesea are more
ancient than any rocks of the adjacent main land ; but it
has since been shown that they are of the same age with the
slates and grits of Carnarvon and Merioneth. Again, slaty
cleavage having been first found only in the lowest rocks,
was taken as an indication of the highest antiquity : whence
resulted serious mistakes ; for this mineral characteristic
is now known to occur in the Carboniferous system. Once
more, certain red conglomerates and grits on the north-west
coast of Scotland, long supposed from their lithological as-
pect to belong to the Old Red Sandstone, are now identifi-
ed with the Lower Silurians.

These are a few instances of the small trust to be placed in
mineral qualities, as evidence of the ages or relative posi-
tions of strata. From the recently-published third edition
of Siluria, may be culled numerous facts of like implication.
Sir R. Murchison considers it ascertained, that the silioeous
Stiper stones of Shropshire are the equivalents of the Tre-
madock slates of North Wales. Judged by their fossils,
Bala slate and limestone are of the same age as the Cara-
doc sandstone, lying forty miles off. In Radnorshire, the
formation classed as upper Llandovery rock, is described
at different spots, as " sandstone or conglomerate," " impure
limestone," " hard coarse grits," " siliceous grit " — a consid-
erable variation for so small an area as that of a county.
Certain sandy beds on the left bank of the Towy, which
Sir R. Murchison had, in his Silurian System, classed as
Caradoc sandstone (evidently from their mineral characters),
he now finds, from their fossils, belong to the Llandeilo for-
mation. Nevertheless, inferences from mineral characters
are still habitually drawn and received. Though Siluria,
in common with other geological works, supplies numerous
proofs that rocks of the same age are often of widely-dif-
ferent composition a few miles off, while rocks of widely

MINERAL CHARACTERS OF STRATA UNCERTAIN. 321

different ages are often of similar composition ; and though
Sir. R. Murchison shows us, as in the case just cited, that
he has himself in past times been misled by trusting to lith-
ological evidence ; yet his reasoning, all through Siluria,
shows that he still thinks it natural to expect formations of
the same age to be chemically similar, even in remote re-
gions. For example, in treating of the Silurian rocks of
South Scotland, he says : — " When traversing the tract be-
tween Dumfries and Moffat in 1850, it occurred to me that
the dull reddish or purple sandstone and schist to the north
of the former town, which so resembled the bottom rocks
of the Longmynd, Llanberis, and St. David's, would
prove to be of the same age ; " and further on he again
insists upon the fact that these strata " are absolutely of
the same composition as the bottom rocks of the Silurian
region."

On this unity of mineral character it is, that this Scot-
tish formation is concluded to be contemporaneous with
the lowest formations in "Wales ; for the scanty palseontolo-
gical evidence suffices neither for proof nor disproof. Now,
had there been a continuity of like strata in like order be-
tween Wales and Scotland, there might have been little to
criticise in this conclusion. But since Sir R. Murchison
himself admits, that in Westmoreland and Cumberland,
some members of the system u assume a lithological aspect
different from what they maintain in the Silurian and
Welsh region," there seems no reason to expect miueralogical
continuity in Scotland. Obviously therefore, the assump-
tion that these Scottish formations are of the same age
with the Longmynd of Shropshire, implies the latent be-
lief that certain mineral characters indicate certain eras.

Far more striking instances, however, of the influence
of this latent belief remain to be given. Not in such com-
paratively near districts as the Scottish lowlands only, does
Sir R. Murchison expect a repetition of the Longmynd

322 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

strata ; but in the Rhenish provinces, certain " quartzose
flagstones and grits, like those of the Longmynd," are
seemingly concluded to be of contemporaneous origin, be-
cause of their likeness. " Quartzites in roofing-slates with
a greenish tinge that reminded us of the lower slates of
Cumberland and Westmoreland," are evidently suspected
to be of the same age. In Russia, he remarks that the car-
boniferous limestones " are overlaid along the western edge
of the Ural chain by sandstones and grits, which occupy
much the same place in the general series as the millstone
grit of England ; " and in calling this group, as he does,
the " representative of the millstone grit," Sir R. Murchi-
son clearly shows that he thinks likeness of mineral compo-
sition some evidence of equivalence in time, even at that
great distance. Nay, on the flanks of the Andes and in
the United States, such similarities are looked for, and con-
sidered as significant of certain ages. Not that Sir R. Mur-
chison contends theoretically for this relation between litho-
logical character and date. For on the page from which
we have just quoted (Siluria, p. 387), he says, that "whilst
the soft Lower Silurian clays and sands of St. Petersburg
have their equivalents in the hard schists and quartz rocks
with gold veins in the heart of the Ural mountains, the
equally soft red and green Devonian marls of the Valdai
Hills are represented on the western flank of that chain, by
hard, contorted, and fractured limestones." But these,
and other such admissions, seem to go for little. Whilst
himself asserting that the Potsdam-sandstone of North
America, the Lingula-flags of England, and the alum-slates
of Scandinavia are of the same period — while fully aware
that among the Silurian formations of Wales, there are
oolitic strata like those of secondary age ; yet is his reason-
ing more or less coloured by the assumption, that forma-
tions of like qualities probably belong to the same era. Is
it not manifest, then, that the exploded hypothesis of Wer-
ner continues to influence geological speculation ?

ASSUMED UNIVERSALITY OF STRATIFIED GROUPS. 323

" But," it will perhaps be said, " though individual
strata are not continuous over large areas, yet systems of
strata are. Though within a few miles the same bed grad-
ually passes from clay into sand, or thins out and disap-
pears, yet the group of strata to which it belongs does not
do so ; but maintains in remote regions the same relations
to other groups."

This is the generally-current belief. On this assump-
tion the received geological classifications appear to be
framed. The Silurian system, the Devonian system, the
Carboniferous system, etc., are set down in our books as
groups of formations which everywhere succeed each other
in a given order ; and are severally everywhere of the same
age. Though it may not be asserted that these successive
systems are universal ; yet it seems to be tacitly assumed
that they are so. In North and South America, in Asia,
in Australia, sets of strata are assimilated to one or other
of these groups ; and their possession of certain mineral
characters and a certain order of superposition are among
the reasons assigned for so assimilating them. Though,
probably, no competent geologist would contend that the
European classification of strata is applicable to the globe
as a whole ; yet most, if not all geologists, write as though
it were so. Among readers of works on Geology, nine out
ten carry away the impression that the divisions, Primary,
Secondary and Tertiary, are of absolute and uniform appli-
cation ; that these great divisions are separable into subdi-
visions, each of which is definitely distinguishable from the
rest, and is everywhere recognizable by its characters as
such or such ; and that in all parts of the Earth, these
minor systems severally began and ended at the same time.
When they meet with the term " carboniferous era," they
take for granted that it was an era universally carbonife-
rous— that it was, what Hugh Miller indeed actually de-
scribes it, an era when the Earth bore a vegetation far

324 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

more luxuriant than it has since done ; and were they in
any of our colonies to meet with a coal-bed, they would
conclude that, as a matter of course, it was of the same
age as the English coal-beds.

!N"ow this belief that geologic " systems * are universal,
is quite as untenable as the other. It is just as absurd
when considered d priori / and it is equally inconsistent
with the facts. Though some series of strata classed to-
gether as Oolite, may range over a wider district than any
one stratum of the series ; yet we have but to ask what
were the circumstances of its deposit, to see that the Oolitic
series, like one of its individual strata, must be of local
origin ; and that there is not likely to be anywhere else, a
series that exactly corresponds, either in its characters or
in its commencement and termination. For the formation
of such a series implies an area of subsidence, in which its
component beds were thrown down. Every area of sub-
sidence is necessarily limited ; and to suppose that there
exist elsewhere groups of beds completely answering to
those known as Oolite, is to suppose that, in contempora-
neous areas of subsidence, like processes were going on.
There is no reason to suppose this ; but every reason to
suppose the reverse. That in contemporaneous areas of
subsidence throughout the globe, the conditions would
cause the formation of Oolite, or anything like it, is an as-
sumption which no modern geologist would openly make :
he would say that the equivalent series of beds found else-
where, would very likely be of dissimilar mineral charac-
ter.

Moreover, in these contemporaneous areas of subsi-
dence, the phenomena going on would not only be more or
less different in kind ; but in no two cases would they be
likely to agree in their commencements and terminations.
The probabilities are greatly against separate portions of
the Earth's surface beginning to subside at the same time,

GEOLOGIC SYSTEMS NOT UNIVERSAL. 325

and ceasing to subside at the same time — a coincidence
which alone could produce equivalent groups of strata.
Subsidences in different places begin and end with utter
irregularity ; and hence the groups of strata thrown down
in them can but rarely correspond. Measured against each
other in time, their limits will disagree. They will refuse
to fit into any scheme of definite divisions. On turning to
the evidence, we find that it daily tends more and more to
justify these a priori positions. Take, as an example, the
Old Red Sandstone system. In the north of England this
is represented by a single stratum of conglomerate. In
Herefordshire, Worcestershire, and Shropshire, it expands
into a series of strata from eight to ten thousand feet thick,
made up of conglomerates, red, green, and white sand-
stones, red, green, and spotted marls, and concretionary
limestones. To the south-west, as between Caermarthen
and Pembroke, these Old Red Sandstone strata exhibit
considerable lithological changes ; and there is an absence
of fossil fishes. On the other side of the Bristol Channel,
they display further changes in mineral characters and re-
mains. While in South Devon and Cornwall, the equiva-
lent strata, consisting chiefly of slates, schists, and lime-
stones, are so wholly different, that they were for a long
time classed as Silurian. When we thus see that in certain
directions the whole group of deposits thins out, and that
its mineral characters as well as its fossils change within
moderate distances ; does it not become clear that the
whole group of deposits was a local one ? And when we
find, in other regions, formations analogous to these Old
Red Sandstone or Devonian formations ; is it certain — is it
even probable — that they severally began and ended at the
same time with them ? Should it not require overwhelm-
ing evidence to make us believe as much ?

Yet so strongly is geological speculation swayed by the
tendency to regard the phenomena as general instead of

328 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

local, that even those most on their guard against it seein
unable to escape its influence. At page 158 of his Princi'
pies of Geology ', Sir Charles Lyell says : —

" A group of red marl and red sandstone, containing salt and
gypsum, being interposed in England between the Lias and the
Coal, all other red marls and sandstones, associated some of them
with salt, and others with gypsum, and occurring not only in dif-
ferent parts of Europe, but in North America, Peru, India, the
salt deserts of Asia, those of Africa — in a word, in every quarter
of the globe, were referred to one and the same period. . . .
. . It was in vain to urge as an objection the improbability of
the hypothesis which implies that all the moving waters on the
globe were once simultaneously charged with sediment of a red
colour. But the rashness of pretending to identify, in age, all the
red sandstones and marls in question, has at length been suffi-
ciently exposed, by the discovery that, even in Europe, they be-
long decidedly to many different epochs."

Nevertheless, while in this and numerous passages of
like implication, Sir C. Lyell protests against the bias here
illustrated, he seems himself not completely free from it.
Though he utterly rejects the old hypothesis that all over
the Earth the same continuous strata lie upon each other
in regular order, like the coats of an onion, he still writes
as though geologic " systems " do thus succeed each other.
A reader of his Manual would certainly suppose him to
believe, that the Primary epoch ended, and the Secondary
epoch commenced, all over the world at the same time —
that these terms really correspond to distinct universal eras
in Nature. When he assumes, as he does, that the divis-
ion between Cambrian and Lower Silurian in America, an-
swers chronologically to the division between Cambrian
and Lower Silurian in Wales — when he takes for granted
that the partings of Lower from Middle Silurian, and of
Middle Silurian from Upper, in the one region, are of the
same dates as the like partings in the other region ; does it

CONTINUED INFLUENCE OF EXPLODED VIEWS. 327

not seem that he believes geologic " systems " to be uni-
versal, in the sense that their separations were in all places
contemporaneous ? Though he would, doubtless, disown
this as an article of faith, is not his thinking unconsciously
influenced by it ? Must we not say that though the onion-
coat hypothesis is dead, its spirit is traceable, under a trans-
cendental form, even in the conclusions of its antagonists ?

Let us now consider another leading geological doc-
trine, introduced to us by the cases just mentioned. We
mean the doctrine that strata of the same age contain like
fossils ; and that, therefore, the age and relative position of
any stratum may be known by its fossils. While the the-
ory that strata of like mineral characters were everywhere
deposited simultaneously, has been ostensibly abandoned,
there has been accepted the theory that in each geologic
epoch similar plants and animals existed everywhere ; and
that, therefore, the epoch to which any formation belongs
may be known by the organic remains contained in the
formation. Though, perhaps, no leading geologist would
openly commit himself to an unqualified assertion of this
theory, yet it is tacitly assumed in current geological rea-
soning.

This theory, however, is scarcely more tenable than the
other. It cannot be concluded with any certainty, that
formations in which similar organic remains are found, were
of contemporaneous origin ; nor can it be safely concluded
that strata containing different organic remains are of dif-
ferent ages. To most readers these will be startling propo-
sitions ; but they are fully admitted by the highest author-
ities. Sir Charles Lyell confesses that the test of organic
remains must be used " under very much the same restric-
tions as the test of mineral composition." Sir Henry de la
Beche, who variously illustrates this truth, gives, as one
instance, the great incongruity there must be between the

328 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

fossils of our carboniferous rocks and those of the marine
strata deposited at the same period. But though, in th«
abstract, the danger of basing positive conclusions on evi-
dence derived from fossils, is clearly recognized ; yet, in the
concrete, this danger is generally disregarded. The estab-
lished conclusions respecting the ages of strata, take but
little note of it ; and by some geologists it see'ms altogether
ignored. Throughout his Siluria, Sir R. Murchison habit-
ually assumes that the same, or kindred, species, lived in
all parts of the Earth at the same time. In Russia, in Bo-
hemia, in the United States, in South America, strata are
classed as belonging to this or that part of the Silurian sys-
tem, because of the similar fossils contained in them — are
concluded to be everywhere contemporaneous if they en-
close a proportion of identical or allied forms. In Russia
the relative position of a stratum is inferred from the fact
that, along with some Wenlock forms, it yields the JPenta-
merus oblongus. Certain crustaceans called Eurypteri, be-
ing characteristic of the Upper Ludlow rock, it is remarked
that " large Eurypteri occur in a so-called black grey-wacke
slate in Westmoreland, in Oneida County, New York,
which will probably be found to be on the parallel of the
Upper Ludlow rock : " in which word " probably," we see
both how dominant is this belief of universal distribution
of similar creatures at the same period, and how apt this
belief is to make its own proof, by raising the expectation
that the ages are identical when the forms are alike. Be-
sides thus interpreting the formations of Russia, England,
and America, Sir R. Murchison thus interprets those of the
antipodes. Fossils from Victoria Colony, he agrees with
the Government-surveyor in classing as of Lower Silurian
or Llandovery age : that is, he takes for granted that when
certain crustaceans and mollusks were living in Wales, cer-
tain similar crustaceans and mollusks were living in Aus*
tralia

THE TEST OF ORGANIC REMAINS. 329

Yet the improbability of this assumption may be readily
shown from Sir R. Murchison's own facts. If, as he points
out, the crustacean fossils of the uppermost Silurian rocks
in Lanarkshire are, " with one doubtful exception," " all
distinct from any of the forms on the same horizon in Eng-
land ; " how can it be fairly presumed that the forms exist-
ing on the other side of the Earth during the Silurian
period, were nearly allied to those existing here ? Not
only, indeed, do Sir R. Murchison's conclusions tacitly as-
sume this doctrine of universal distribution, but he distinctly
enunciates it. "The mere presence of a graptolite," he
says, " will at once decide that the enclosing rock is Silu-
rian ; " and he says this, notwithstanding repeated warnings
against such generalizations. During the progress of Geolo-
gy, it has over and over again happened that a particular
fossil, long considered characteristic of a particular forma-
tion, has been afterwards discovered in other formations.
Until some twelve years ago, Goniatites had not been found
lower than the Devonian rocks; but now, in Bohemia, they
have been found in rocks classed as Silurian. Quite re-
cently, the Orthoceras, previously supposed to be a type
exclusively palaeozoic, has been detected along with meso-
zoic Ammonites and Belemnites. Yet hosts of such experi-
ences fail to extinguish the assumption, that the age of a
stratum may be determined by the occurrence in it of a
single fossil form.

Nay, this assumption survives evidence of even a still
more destructive kind. Referring to the Silurian system
in Western Ireland, Sir R. Murchison says, " in the beds
near Maam, Professor Nicol and myself collected remains,
some of which would be considered Lower, and others
Upper, Silurian ; " and he then names sundry fossils which,
in England, belong to the summit of the Ludlow rocks, or
highest Silurian strata ; " some, which elsewhere are known
only in rocks of Llandovery age," that is, of middle Silu-

330 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

rian age ; and some, only before known in Lower Siluriar
strata, not far above the most ancient fossiliferous beds
Now what do these facts prove ? Clearly, they prove that
species which in Wales are separated by strata more than
twenty thousand feet deep, and therefore seem to belong
to periods far more remote from each other, were really
coexistent. They prove that the mollusks and orinoids
held characteristic of early Silurian strata, and supposed to
have become extinct long before the mollusks and crinoids
of the later Silurian strata came into existence, were really
flourishing at the same time with these last ; and that these
last possibly date back to as early a period as the first.
They prove that not only the mineral characters of sedi-
mentary formations, but also the collections of organic
forms they contain, depend, to a great extent, on local cir-
cumstances. They prove that the fossils met with in any
series of strata, cannot be taken as representing anything
like the whole Flora and Fauna of the period they belong
to. In brief, they throw great doubt upon numerous geo-
logical generalizations.

Notwithstanding facts like these, and notwithstanding
his avowed opinion that the test of organic remains must be
used " under very much the same restrictions as the test of
mineral composition," Sir Charles Lyell, too, bases positive
conclusions on this test : even where the community of
fossils is slight and the distance great. Having decided
that in various places in Europe, middle Eocene strata are
distinguished by nummulites ; he infers, without any other
assigned evidence, that wherever nummulites are found —
in Morocco, Algeria, Egypt, in Persia, Scinde, Cutch, East-
ern Bengal, and the frontiers of China — the containing for-
mation is middle Eocene. And from this inference he
draws the following important corollary : —

' "When we have once arrived at the conviction that the

lyell's conclusions unwarranted. 331

nummulitic formation occupies a middle place in the Eocene
series, we are struck with the comparatively modern date to
which some of the greatest revolutions in the physical geography
of Europe, Asia, and northern Africa must be referred. All
the mountain chains, such as the Alps, Pyrenees, Carpathians,
and Himalayas, into the composition of whose central and lof-
tiest parts the nummulitic strata enter bodily, could have had no
existence till after the middle Eocene period." — Manual, p. 232.

A still more marked case follows on the next page.
Because a certain bed at Claiborne in Alabama, which con-
tains "four hundred species of marine shells," includes
among them the Cardita planicosta, " and some others
.dentical with European species, or very nearly allied to
them," Sir C. Lyell says it is " highly probable the Clai-
borne beds agree in age with the central or Bracklesham
group of England." When we find contemporaneity sup-
posed on the strength of a community no greater than that
which sometimes exists between strata of widely-different
ages in the same country, it seems very much as though
the above-quoted caution had been forgotten. It appears
to be assumed for the occasion, that species which had a
wide range in space had a narrow range in time ; which is
the reverse of the fact. The tendency to systematize over-
rides the evidence, and thrusts Nature into a formula too
rigid to fit her endless variety.

" But," it may be urged, " surely, when in different
places the order of superposition, the mineral characters,
and the fossils, agree, it may be safely concluded that the
formations thus corresponding are equivalents in time. If,
for example, the United States display the same succes-
sion of Silurian, Devonian, and Carboniferous systems, lith-
ologically similar, and characterized by like fossils, it is a
fair inference that these groups of strata were severally
deposited in America at the same periods that they were
deposited here.''

332 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

On this position, which seems a strong one, we have, in
the first place, to remark, that the evidence of correspond-
ence is always more or less suspicious. We have already
adverted to the several " idols " — if we may use Bacon's
metaphor — to which geologists unconsciously sacrifice,
when interpreting the structures of unexplored regions.
Carrying with them the classification of strata existing in
Europe, and assuming that groups of strata in other parts
of the world must answer to some of the groups of strata
known here, they are necessarily prone to assert parallel-
ism on insufficient evidence. They scarcely entertain the
previous question, whether the formations they are examin-
ing have or have not any European equivalents ; but the
question is — with which of the European series shall they
be classed? — with which do they most agree ? — from which
do they differ least ? And this being the mode of enquiry,
there is apt to result great laxity of interpretation. How
lax the interpretation really is, may be readily shown.
When strata are discontinuous, as between Europe and
America, no evidence can be derived from the order of
superposition, apart from mineral characters and organic
remains ; for, unless strata can be continuously traced, min-
eral characters and organic remains are the only means of
classing them as such or such.

As to the test of mineral characters, we have seen that
it is almost worthless ; and no modern geologist would
dare to say it should be relied on. If the Old Red Sand-
stone series in mid-England, differs wholly in lithological
aspect from the equivalent series in South Devon, it is clear
that similarities of texture and composition can have no
weight in assimilating a system of strata in another quar-
ter of the globe to some European system. The test of
fossils, therefore, is the only one that remains ; and with
how little strictness this test is applied, one case will show.
Of forty-six species of British Devonian corals, only six

INADEQUATE EVIDENCE OF SYNCHRONISM. 333

occur in America ; and this, notwithstanding the wide
range which the Anthozoa are known to have. Similarly
of the Mollusca and Crinoidea, it appears that, while then
are sundry genera found in America that are found here,
there are scarcely any of the same species. And Sir
Charles Lyell admits that " the difficulty of deciding on
the exact parallelism of the New York subdivisions, as
above enumerated, with the members of the European
Devonian, is very great, so few are the species in common."
Yet it is on the strength of community of fossils, that the
whole Devonian series of the United States is assumed to
be contemporaneous with the whole Devonian series of
England. And it is partly on the ground that the Devo-
nian of the United States corresponds in time with our De-
vonian, that Sir Charles Lyell concludes the superjacent
coal-measures of the two countries to be of the same age.
Is it not, then, as we said, that the evidence in these cases
is very suspicious ?

Should it be replied, as it may fairly be, that this cor-
respondence from which the synchronism of distant forma-
tions is inferred, is not a correspondence between particu-
lar species or particular genera, but between the general
characters of the contained assemblages of fossils — between
the fades of the two Faunas; the rejoinder is, that though
such correspondence is a stronger evidence of synchronism
it is still an insufficient one. To infer synchronism from
such correspondence, involves the postulate that through-
out each geologic era there has habitually existed a recog-
nizable similarity between the groups of organic forms in-
habiting all the different parts of the Earth ; and that the
causes which have in one part of the Earth changed the or-
ganic forms into those which characterize the next era, have
simultaneously acted in all other parts of the Earth, in such
ways as to produce parallel changes of their organic forms.
Now this is not only a large assumption to make ; but it ifl

334 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

an assumption contrary to probability. The probability is«
that the causes which have changed Faunas have been locai
rather than universal; that hence while the Faunas of
some regions have been rapidly changing, those of others
have been almost quiescent ; and that when such others
have been changed, it has been, not in such ways as to
maintain parallelism, but in such ways as to produce diver-
gence.

Even supposing, however, that districts some hundreds
of miles apart, furnished groups of strata that completely
agreed in their order of superposition, their mineral charac-
ters, and their fossils, we should still have inadequate proof
of contemporaneity. For there are conditions, very likely
to occur, under which such groups might differ widely in
age. If there be a continent of which the strata crop out
on the surface obliquely to the line of coast — running, say,
west-northwest, while the coast runs east and west — it is
clear that each group of strata will crop out on the beach
at a particular part of the coast ; that further west the next
group of strata will crop out on the beach ; and so continu-
ously. As the localization of marine plants and animals is
in a considerable degree determined by the nature of the
rocks and their detritus, it follows that each part of this
coast will have its more or less distinct Flora and Fauna.
What now must result from the action of the waves in the
course of a geologic epoch ? As the sea makes slow inroads
on the land, the place at which each group of strata crops
out on the beach will gradually move towards the west :
its distinctive fish, mollusks, crustaceans, and sea-weeds,
migrating with it. Further, the detritus of each of these
groups of strata will, as the point of outcrop moves west-
wards, be deposited over the detritus of the group in ad-
vance of it. And the consequence of these actions, carried
on for one of those enormous periods required for geologic
changes, will be that, corresponding to each eastern stratum.

VARIETY OF STRATA NOW FORMING. 335

there will arise a stratum far to the west which, though oc«
cupying the same position relatively to other beds, formed
of like materials, and containing like fossils, will yet be per
haps a million years later in date.

But the illegitimacy, or at any rate the great doubtful-
ness, of many current geological inferences, is best seen
when we contemplate terrestrial changes now going on :
and ask how far such inferences are countenanced by them.
If we carry out rigorously the modern method of interpret-
ing geological phenomena, which Sir Charles Lyell has done
so much to establish — that of referring them to causes like
those at present in action — we cannot fail to see how im-
probable are sundry of the received conclusions.

Along each line of shore that is being worn away by
the waves, there are being formed mud, sand, and pebbles.
This detritus, spread over the neighbouring sea-bottom,
lias, in each locality, a more or less special character ; de-
termined by the nature of the strata destroyed. In the
English Channel it is not the same as in the Irish Channel ;
on the east coast of Ireland it is not the same as on the
west coast ; and so throughout. At the mouth of each
great river, there is being deposited sediment differing
more or less from that of other rivers in colour and quali-
ty ; forming strata that are here red, there yellow, and
elsewhere brown, grey, or dirty white. Besides which va
rious formations, going on in deltas and along shores, there
are some much wider and still more contrasted formations.
At the bottom of the iEgaean Sea, there is accumulating
a bed of Pteropod shells, which will eventually, no doubt,
become a calcareous rock. For some hundreds of thou-
Bands of square miles, the ocean-bed between Great Britain
and North America, is being covered with a stratum of
chalk ; and over large areas in the Pacific, there are going
an deposits of coralline limestone. Thus, throughout the
16

336 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

Earth, there are at this moment being produced an im-
mense number of strata differing from each other in litho-
logical characters. Name at random any one part of the
sea-bottom, and ask whether the deposit there taking place
is like the deposit taking place at some distant part of the
sea-bottom, and the almost-certainly correct answer will be
— No. The chances are not in favour of similarity, but
very greatly against it.

In the order of superposition of strata there is occur-
ing a like variety. Each region of the Earth's surface has
its special history of elevations, subsidences, periods of
rest ; and this history in no case fits chronologically with
the history of any other portion. River deltas are now be-
ing thrown down on formations of quite different ages.
While here there has been deposited a series of beds many
hundreds of feet thick, there has elsewhere been deposited
but a single bed of fine mud. While one region of the
Earth's crust, continuing for a vast epoch above the surface
of the ocean, bears record of no changes save those result-
ing from denudation ; another region of the Earth's crust
gives proof of various changes of level, with their several
resulting masses of stratified detritus. If anything is to
be judged from current processes, we must infer, not only
that everywhere the succession of sedimentary formations
differs more or less from the succession elsewhere ; but also
that in each place, there exist groups of strata to which
many other places have no equivalents.

With respect to the organic bodies imbedded in forma-
tions now in progress, the like truth is equally manifest, if
not more manifest. Even along the same coast, within
moderate distances, the forms of life differ very considera-
bly ; much more on coasts that are remote from each other.
Again, dissimilar creatures that are living together near the
game shore, do not leave their remains in the same beds of
sediment. For instance, at the bottom of the Adriatic.

MODERN DEPOSITS OF ORGANIC REMAINS. 337

where the prevailing currents cause the deposits to be here
of mud, and there of calcareous matter, it is proved that
different species of co-existing shells are being buried in
these respective formations. On our own coasts, the ma-
rine remains found a few miles from shore, in banks where
fish congregate, are different from those found close to the
shore, where only littoral species flourish. A large propor-
tion of aquatic creatures have structures that do not admit
of fossilization ; wrhile of the rest, the great majority are
destroyed, when dead, by the various kinds of scavengers
that creep among the rocks and weeds. . So that no one
deposit near our shores can contain anything like a true
representation of the Fauna of the surrounding sea ; much
less of the co-existing Faunas of other seas in the same lat-
itude ; and still less of the Faunas of seas in distant lati-
tudes. Were it not that the assertion seems needful, it
would be almost absurd to say, that the organic remains
now being buried in the Dogger Bank, can tell us next
to nothing about the fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and corals
that are being buried in the Bay of Bengal.

Still stronger is the argument in the case of terrestrial
life. With more numerous and greater contrasts between
the plants and animals of remote places, there is a far more
imperfect registry of them. Schouw marks out on the Earth
more than twenty botanical regions, occupied by groups of
forms so far distinct from each other, that, if fossilized, geo-
logists wTould scarcely be disposed to refer them all to the
same period. Of Faunas, the Arctic differs from the Tem-
perate ; the Temperate from the Tropical ; and the South
Temperate from the North Temperate. Nay, in the South
Temperate Zone itself, the two regions of South Africa and
South America are unlike in their mammals, birds, reptiles,
fishes, mollusks, insects. The shells and bones now lying at
the bottoms of lakes and estuaries in these several regions,
have certainly not that similarity which is usually looked

338 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

for in those of contemporaneous strata ; and the recent
forms exhumed in any one of these regions would very un-
truly represent the present Flora and Fauna of the Earth.
In conformity with the current style of geological reason-
ing, an exhaustive examination of deposits in the Arctic cir-
cle, mig;ht be held to prove that though at this period
there were sundry mammals existing, there were no reptiles ;
while the absence of mammals in the deposits of the Gala-
pagos Archipelago, where there are plenty of reptiles, might
be held to prove the reverse. And at the same time, from
the formations extending for two thousand miles along the
great barrier-reef of Australia — formations in which are
imbedded nothing but corals, echinoderms, mollusks, crus-
taceans, and fish, along with an occasional turtle, or bird,
or cetacean, it might be inferred that there lived in our
epoch neither terrestrial reptiles nor terrestrial mammals.

The mention of Australia, indeed, suggests an illustra-
tion which, even alone, would amply prove our case. The
Fauna of this region differs widely from any that is found
elsewhere. On land all the indigenous mammals, except
bats, belong to the lowest, or implacental division ; and the
insects are singularly different from those found elsewhere.
The surrounding seas contain numerous forms that are more
or less strange ; and among the fish there exists a species
of shark, which is the only living representative of a genus
that flourished in early geologic epochs. If, now, the mod-
ern fossiliferous deposits of Australia were to be examined
by one ignorant of the existing Australian Fauna ; and if he
were to reason in the usual manner ; he would be very un-
likely to class these deposits with those of the present time.
How, then, can we place confidence in the tacit assumption
that certain formations in remote parts of the Earth are
referable to the same period, because the organic remains
contained in them display a certain community of charac-
ter ? or that certain others are referable to different periods,
because the fades of their Faunas are different ?

REASONING IN A CIRCLE. 339

"But," it will be replied, "in past eras the same, or
similar, organic forms were more widely distributed than
now." It may be so ; but the evidence adduced by no
means proves it. The argument by which this conclusion
is reached, runs a risk of being quoted as an example of
reasoning in a circle. As already pointed out, between
formations in remote regions there is no means of ascertain-
ing equivalence but by fossils. If, then, the contempora-
neity of remote formations is concluded from the likeness
of their fossils ; how can it be said that similar plants and
animals were once more widely distributed, because they
are found in contemporaneous strata in remote regions ?
Is not the fallacy manifest ? Even supposing there were
no such fatal objection as this, the evidence commonly as-
signed would still be insufficient. For we must bear in
mind that the community of organic remains commonly
thought sufficient for inferring correspondence in time, is a
very imperfect community. When the compared sedimen-
tary beds are far apart, it is scarcely expected that there
will be many species common to the two : it is enough if
there be discovered a considerable number of common gen-
era. Now had it been proved that, throughout geologic
time, each genus lived but for a short period — a period
measured by a single group of strata — something might be
inferred. But what if we learn that many of the same
genera continued to exist throughout enormous epochs,
measured by several vast systems of strata ? " Among
molluscs, the genera Avicula, Mbdiola, Terebratula, Lin-
gular and Orbicula, are found from the Silurian rocks up-
wards to the present day." If, then, between the lowest
fossiliferous formations and the most recent, there exists
this degree of community ; must we not infer that there
will probably often exist a degree of community between
«trata that are far from contemporaneous ?

Thus the reasoning from which it is concluded that

340 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

similar organic forms were once more widely spread, is
doubly fallacious ; and, consequently, the classifications of
foreign strata based on this conclusion are untrustworthy.
Judging from the present distribution of life, we can
scarcely expect to find similar remains in geographically
remote strata of the same age ; and where, between the
fossils of geographically remote strata, we do find much
similarity, it is probably often due rather to likeness of con-
ditions than to contemporaneity. If from causes and ef-
fects such as we now witness, we reason back to the causes
and effects of past epochs, we discover inadequate warrant
for sundry of the received doctrines. Seeing, as we do,
that in large areas Of the Pacific this is a period character-
ized by abundance of corals ; that in the North Atlantic it
is a period in which a great chalk-deposit is being formed ;
and that in the valley of the Mississippi it is a period of
new coal-basins — seeing also, as we do, that in one exten-
sive continent this is peculiarly an era of implacental mam-
mals, and that in another extensive continent it is peculiarly
an era of placental mammals ; we have good reason to hes-
itate before accepting these sweeping generalizations which
are based on a cursory examination of strata occupying but
a tenth part of the Earth's surface.

At the outset, this article was to have been a review of
the works of Hugh Miller ; but it has grown into some-
thing much more general. Nevertheless, the remaining
two doctrines which we propose to criticise, may be con-
veniently treated in connection with his name, as that of
one who fully committed himself to them. And first, a few
words with regard to his position.

That he was a man whose life was one of meritorious
achievement, every one knows. That he was a diligent and
successful working geologist, scarcely needs saying. That
with indomitable perseverance he struggled up from ob-

HUGH MILLER AS A GEOLOGIST. 341

scurity to a place in the world of literature and science,
shows him to have been highly endowed in character and
intelligence. And that he had a remarkable power of pre-
senting his facts and arguments in an attractive form, a
glance at any of his books will quickly prove. By all
means, let us respect him as a man of activity and sagacity,
joined with a large amount of poetry. But while saying
this we must add, that his reputation stands by no means
so high in the scientific world as in the world at large.
Partly from the fact that our Scotch neighbours are in the
habit of blowing the trumpet rather loudly before their
notabilities — partly because the charming style in which his
books are written has gained him a large circle of readers
— partly, perhaps, through a praiseworthy sympathy with
him as a self-made man ; Hugh Miller has met with an
amount of applause which, little as we wish to diminish it,
must not be allowed to blind the public to his defects as a
man of science.

The truth is, he was so far committed to a foregone
conclusion, that he could not become a philosophical geolo-
gist. He might be aptly described as a theologian study-
ing geology. The dominant idea with which he wrote,
may be seen in the titles of his books — Law versus Miracle^
-—Footprints of the Creator \ — The Testimony of the
Mocks. Regarding geological facts as evidence for or
against certain religious conclusions, it was scarcely possi-
ble for him to deal with geological facts impartially. His
ruling aim was to disprove the Development Hypothesis,
the assumed implications of which were repugnant to him ;
and in proportion to the strength of his feeling, was the
one-sidedness of his reasoning. He admitted that " God
might as certainly have originated the species by a law of
development, as he maintains it by a law of development •
the existence of a First Great Cause is as perfectly compat*
'hie with the one scheme as with the other." Neverthe*

342 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

less, he considered the hypothesis at variance with Chria
tianity ; and therefore combated with it. He apparently
overlooked the fact that the doctrines of geology in gen-
eral, as held by himself, had been rejected by many on sim-
ilar grounds ; and that he had himself been repeatedly at-
tacked for his anti-Christian teachings. He seems not to
have perceived that, just as his antagonists were wrong in
condemning as irreligious, theories which he saw were not
irreligious ; so might he be wrong in condemning, on like
grounds, the Theory of Evolution. In brief, he fell short
of that highest faith, which knows that all truths must har-
monize ; and which is, therefore, content trustfully to fol-
low the evidence whithersoever it leads.

Of course it is impossible to criticize his works without
entering on this great question to which he chiefly devoted
himself. The two remaining doctrines to be here discussed,
bear directly on this question ; and, as above said, we pro-
pose to treat them in connection with Hugh Miller's name,
because, throughout his reasonings, he assumes their truth.
Let it not be supposed, however, that we shall aim to prove
what he has aimed to disprove. While we purpose show-
ing that his arguments against the Development Hypothe-
sis are based on invalid assumptions ; we do not purpose
showing that the opposing arguments are based on valid
assumptions. "We hope to make it apparent that the geo-
logical evidence at present obtained, is insufficient for either
side ; further, that there seems little probability of sufficient
evidence ever being obtained ; and that if the question is
eventually decided, it must be decided on other than geo-
logical data.

The first of the current doctrines to which we have just
referred, is, that there occur in the records of former life
on our planet, certain great blanks — that though, generally,
the succession of fossil forms is tolerably continuous, yet

BREAKS IN THE COURSE OF TERRESTRIAL LIFE. 343

that at two places there occur wide gaps in the series
whence it is inferred that, on at least two occasions, the
previously existing inhabitants of the Earth were almost
wholly destroyed, and a different class of inhabitants cre-
ated. Comparing the general life on the Earth to a thread,
Hugh Miller says : —

" It is continuous from the present time up to the commence-
ment of the Tertiary period ; and then so abrupt a break occurs,
that, with the exception of the microscopic diatomaceae- to which
I last evening referred, and of one shell and one coral, not a sin-
gle species crossed the gap. On its further or remoter side, how-
ever, where the Secondary division closes, the intermingling of
species again begins, and runs on till the commencement of this
great Secondary division; and then, just where the Palaeozoic di-
vision closes, we find another abrupt break, crossed, if crossed at
all, — for there still exists some doubt on the subject, — by but two
species of plant."

These breaks are considered to imply actual new crea-
tions on the surface of our planet ; not only by Hugh Mil-
ler, but by the majority of geologists. And the terms
Palaeozoic, Mesozoic, and Cainozoic, are used to indicate
these three successive systems of life. It is true that some
accept this belief with caution : knowing how geologic
research has been all along tending to fill up what were
once thought wide breaks. Sir Charles Lyell points out
that " the hiatus which exists in Great Britain between the
fossils of the Lias and these of the Magnesian Limestone,
is supplied in Germany by the rich fauna and flora of the
Muschelkalk, Keuper, and Bunter Sandstein, which we
know to be of a date precisely intermediate." Again he
remarks that " until lately the fossils of the coal-measures
were separated from those of the antecedent Silurian group
by a very abrupt and decided line of demarcation ; but
recent discoveries have brought to light in Devonshire,
Belgium, the Eifel, and Westphalia, the remains of a fauna

344 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

of an intervening period." And once more, " we have also
in like manner had some success of late years in diminish-
ing the hiatus which still separates the Cretaceous and
Eocene periods in Europe." To which let us add that
since Hugh Miller penned the passage above quoted, the
second of the great gaps he refers to has been very consid-
erably narrowed by the discovery of strata containing Pa-
lseozoic genera and Mesozoic genera intermingled. Never-
theless, the occurrence of two great revolutions in the
Earth's Flora and Fauna appears still to be held by many ;
and geologic nomenclature habitually assumes it.

Before seeking a solution of these phenomena, let us
glance at the several minor causes that produce breaks in
the geological succession of organic forms : taking first,
the more general ones which modify climate, and, there-
fore, the distribution of life. Among these may be noted
one which has not, we believe, been named by writers on
the subject. We mean that resulting from a certain slow
astronomic rhythm, by which the northern and southern
hemispheres are alternately subject to greater extremes of
temperature. In consequence of the slight ellipticity of its
orbit, the Earth's distance from the sun varies to the extent
of some 3,000,000 of miles. At present, the aphelion oc-
curs at the time of our northern summer ; and the perihe-
lion during the summer of the southern hemisphere. In
consequence, however, of that slow movement of the
Earth's axis which produces the precession of the equinox-
es, this state of things will in time be reversed : the Earth
will be nearest to the sun during the summer of the north-
ern hemisphere, and furthest from it during the southern
summer or northern winter. The period required to com-
plete the slow movement producing these changes, is nearly
26,000 years ; and were there no modifying process, the
two hemispheres would alternately experience this coinci*
ience of summer with the least distance from the sun, dur

ASTRONOMIC CAUSES OF CLIMATIC CHANGES. 345

mg a period of 13,000 years. But there is also a still
slower change in the direction of the axis major of the
Earth's orbit ; from which it results that the alternation we
have described is completed in about 21,000 years. That
is to say, if at a given time the Earth is nearest to the sun
at our mid-summer, and furthest from the sun at our mid-
winter: then, in 10,500 years afterwards, it will be furthest
from the sun at our mid-summer, and nearest at our mid-
winter.

Now the difference between the distances from the sun
at the two extremes of this alternation, amounts to one-
thirtieth ; and hence, the difference between the quantities
of heat received from the sun on a summer's day under
these opposite conditions amounts to one-fifteenth. Esti-
mating this, not with reference to the zero of our thermome-
ters, but with reference to the temperature of the celestial
spaces, Sir John Herschel calculates "23° Fahrenheit aa
the least variation of temperature under such circumstances
which can reasonably be attributed to the actual variation
of the sun's distance." Thus, then, each hemisphere has
at a certain epoch, a short summer of extreme heat, fol-
lowed by a long and very cold winter. Through the slow
change in the direction of the Earth's axis, these extremes
are gradually mitigated. And at the end of 10,500 years,
there is reached the opposite state — a long and moderate
summer, with a short and mild winter. At present, in con-
sequence of the predominance of sea in the southern hem-
isphere, the extremes to which its astronomical conditions
subject it, are much ameliorated ; while the great propor-
tion of land in the northern hemisphere, tends to exagge-
rate such contrast as now exists in it between winter and
summer : whence it results that the climates of the two
hemispheres are not widely unlike. But 10,000 years hence,
the northern hemisphere will undergo annual variations of
temperature far more marked than now.

3±6 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

In the last edition of his Outlines of Astronomy, Sii
John Herschel recognizes this as an element in geological
processes : regarding it as possibly a part-cause of those
climatic changes indicated by the records of the Earth's
past. That it has had much to do with the larger changes
of climate of which we have evidence, seems unlikely, since
there is reason to think that these have been far slower and
more lasting ; but that it must have entailed a rhythmical
exaggeration and mitigation of the climates otherwise pro-
duced, seems beyond question. And it seems also beyond
question that there must have been a consequent rhythmi-
cal change in the distribution of organisms — a rhythmical
change to which we here wish to draw attention, as one
cause of minor breaks in the succession of fossil remains.
Each species of plant and animal, has certain limits of heat
and cold within which only it can exist ; and these limits
in a great degree determine its geographical position. It
will not spread north of a certain latitude, because it can-
not bear a more northern winter, nor south of a certain
latitude, because the summer heat is too great ; or else it
is indirectly restrained from spreading further by the effect
of temperature on the humidity of the air, or on the distri-
bution of the organisms it lives upon.

But now, what will result from a slow alteration of cli-
mate, produced as above described ? Supposing the pe-
riod we set out from is that in which the contrast of seasons
is least marked, it is manifest that during the progress to-
wards the period of the most violent contrast, each species
of plant and animal will gradually change its limits of dis-
tribution— will be driven back, here by the winter's increas-
ing cold, and there by the summer's increasing heat — will
retire into those localities that are still fit for it. Thus dur-
ing 10,000 years, each species will ebb away from certain
regions it was inhabiting; and during the succeeding
10,000 years will flow back into those regions. From the

EFFECTS OF THE LONG CLIMATIC RHYTHM. 347

strata there forming, its remains will disappear ; they will
be absent from some of the supposed strata ; and will be
found in strata higher up. But in what shapes will they
re- appear ? Exposed during the 21,000 years of their slow
recession and their slow return, to changing conditions of
life, they are likely to have undergone modifications ; and
will probably re-appear with slight differences of constitu-
tion and perhaps of form — will be new varieties or perhaps
new sub-species.

To this cause of minor breaks in the succession of or-
ganic forms — a cause on which we have dwelt because it
has not been taken into account — we must add sundry oth-
ers. Besides these periodically-recurring alterations of
climate, there are the irregular ones produced by re-distri-
butions of land and sea ; and these, sometimes less, some-
times greater, in degree, than the rhythmical changes, must,
like them, cause in each region the ebb and flow of species ;
and consequent breaks, small or large as the case may be,
in the palaBontological series. Other and more special geo-
logical changes must produce other and more local blanks
in the succession of fossils. By some inland elevation the
natural drainage of a continent is modified ; and instead
of the sediment it previously brought down to the sea, a
great river begins to bring down sediment unfavourable to
various plants and animals living in its delta : wherefore
these disappear from the locality, perhaps to re-appear in a
changed form after a long epoch. Upheavals or subsiden-
ces of shores or sea-bottoms, involving deviations of marine
currents, must remove the habitats of many species to
which such currents are salutary or injurious ; and further,
this re-distribution of currents must alter the places of sed-
imentary deposits, and so stop the burying of organic re-
mains in some localities, and commence it in others. Had
we space, many more such causes of blanks in our palaeon-
tological records might be added. But it is needless her©

348 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

to enumerate them. They are admirably explained and il
lustrated in Sir Charles Ly ell's Principles of Geology.

Now, if these minor revolutions of the Earth's surface
produce minor breaks in the series of fossilized remains ;
must not great revolutions produce great breaks ? If a lo-
cal upheaval or subsidence causes throughout its small area
the absence of some links in the chain of fossil forms ; does
it not follow that an upheaval or subsidence extending over
a large part of the Earth's surface, must cause the absence
of a great number of such links throughout a very wide
area?

When during a long epoch a continent, slowly subsiding,
gives place to a far-spreading ocean some miles in depth, at
the bottom of which no deposits from rivers or abraded
shores can be thrown down ; and when, after some enor-
mous period, this ocean-bottom is gradually elevated and
becomes the site of new strata ; it is clear that the fossils
contained in these new strata are likely to have but little
in common with the fossils of the strata below them. Take,
in illustration, the case of the North Atlantic "We have
already named the fact that between this country and the
United States, the ocean-bottom is being covered with a
deposit of chalk — a deposit that has been forming, proba-
bly, ever since there occurred that great depression of the
Earth's crust from which the Atlantic resulted in remote
geologic times. This chalk consists of the minute shells of
Foraminifera, sprinkled with remains of small Entomostra-
ca, and probably a few Pteropod-shells : though the sound-
ing lines have not yet brought up any of these last. Thus,
in so far as all high forms of life are concerned, this new
chalk- formation must be a blank. At rare intervals, per-
haps, a polar bear drifted on an iceberg, may have its bones
scattered over the bed ; or a dead, decaying whale may
similarly leave traces. But such remains must be so rare,
that this new chalk- formation, if visible, might be examined

GAPS CONSISTENT WITH CONTINUOUS LIFE. 349

for a century before any of them were disclosed. If now,
some millions of years hence, the Atlantic-bed should be
raised, and estuary or shore deposits laid upon it, these de-
posits would contain remains of a Flora and Fauna so dis-
tinct from everything below them, as to appear like a new
creation.

Thus, along with continuity of life on the Earth's sur-
face, there not only may be, but there must be, great gaps,
in the series of fossils ; and hence these gaps are no evi-
dence against the doctrine of Evolution.

One other current assumption remains to be criticized ;
and it is the one on which, more than on any other, de-
pends the view taken respecting the question of develop-
ment.

From the beginning of the controversy, the arguments
for and against have turned upon the evidence of progres-
sion in organic forms, found in the ascending series of our
sedimentary formations. On the one hand, those who con-
tend that higher organisms have been evolved out of low-
er, joined with those who contend that successively higher
organisms have been created at successively later periods,
appeal for proof to the facts of Palaeontology ; which, they
say, countenance their views. On the other hand, the Uni-
formitarians, who not only reject the hypothesis of devel-
opment, but deny that the modern forms of life are higher
than the ancient ones, reply that the Palseontological evi-
dence is at present very incomplete ; that though we have
not yet found remains of highly-organized creatures in
strata of the greatest antiquity, we must not assume that
no such creatures existed when those strata were deposited ;
and that, probably, geological research will eventually dis-
close them.

It must be admitted that thus far, the evidence has
gone in favoui of the latter party. Geological discovery

350 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

has year after year shown the small value of negative facts.
The conviction that there are no traces of higher organisms
in earlier strata, has resulted not from the absence of such
remains, but from incomplete examination. At p. 460 of
his Manual of Elementary Geology, Sir Charles Lyell
gives a list in illustration of this. It appears that in 1709,
fishes were not known lower than the Permian system. In
1793 they were found in the subjacent Carboniferous sys-
tem ; in 1828 in the Devonian ; in 1840 in the Upper Silu-
rian. Of reptiles, we read that in 1710 the lowest known
were in the Permian; in 1844 they were detected in the
Carboniferous; and in 1852 in the Upper Devonian.
While of the Mammalia the list shows that in 1798 none
had been discovered below the middle Eocene; but that in
1818 they were discovered in the Lower Oolite; and in
1847 in the Upper Trias.

The fact is, however, that both parties set out with an
inadmissible postulate. Of the Uniformitarians, not only
such writers as Hugh Miller, but also such as Sir Charles
Lyell,* reason as though we had found the earliest, or some-
thing like the earliest, strata. Their antagonists, whether
defenders of the Development Hypothesis or simply Pro-
gressionists, almost uniformly do the like. Sir R. Murchi-
son, who is a Progressionist, calls the lowest fossiliferous
strata, " Protozoic." Prof. Ansted uses the same term.
Whether avowedly or not, all the disputants stand on this
assumption as their common ground.

Yet is this assumption indefensible, as some who make
t very well know. Facts may be cited against it which
show that it is a more than questionable one — that it is a
highly improbable one ; while the evidence assigned in its
favour will not bear criticism.

* Sir Charles Lyell is no longer to be classed among Uniformitarians.
With rare and admirable candour he has, since this was written, yielded
to the arguments of Mr. Darwin.

CAN WE FIND THE BEGINNING OF LIFE? 351

Because in Bohemia, Great Britain, and portions of
N"orth America, the lowest unmetamorphosed strata yet
discovered, contain but slight traces of life, Sir R. Murchi-
son conceives that they were formed while yet few, if any,
plants or animals had been created ; and, therefore, classes
them as " Azoic." His own pages, however, show the
illegitimacy of the conclusion that there existed at that
period no considerable amount of life. Such traces of life
as have been found in the Longmynd rocks, for many years
considered unfossiliferous, have been found in some of the
lowest beds ; and the twenty thousand feet of superposed
beds, still yield no organic remains. If now these super-
posed strata throughout a depth of four miles, are without
fossils, though the strata over which they lie prove that
life had commenced ; what becomes of Sir R. Murchison's
inference ? At page 189 of Siluria, a still more conclusive
fact will be found. The " Glengariff grits," and other
accompanying strata there described as 13,500 feet thick,
contain no signs of contemporaneous life. Yet Sir R. Mur-
chison refers them to the Devonian period — a period that
had a large and varied marine Fauna. How then, from
the absence of fossils in the Longmynd beds and their
equivalents, can we conclude that the Earth was " azoic "
when they were formed ?

"But," it may be asked, " if living creatures then exist
ed, why do we not find fossiliferous strata of that age, or
an earlier age ? " One reply is, that the non-existence of
such strata is but a negative fact — we have not found them.
And considering how little we know even of the two-fifths
of the Earth's surface now above the sea, and how absolute-
ly ignorant we are of the three-fifths below the sea, it is
rash to say that no such strata exist. But the chief reply
is, that these records of the Earth's earlier history have
been in great part destroyed, by agencies that are ever
tending to destroy such records.

352 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

It is an established geological doctrine, that sedimentary
strata are liable to be changed, more or less completely,
by igneous action. The rocks originally classed as "transi-
tion," because they were intermediate in character between
the igneous rocks found below them, and the sedimentary
strata found above them, are now known to be nothing else
than sedimentary strata altered in texture and appearance
by the intense heat of adjacent molten matter ; and hence
are renamed " metamorphic rocks." Modern researches
have shown, too, that these metamorphic rocks are not, as
was once supposed, all of the same age. Besides primary
and secondary strata that have been transformed by igneous
action, there are similarly-changed deposits of tertiary ori-
gin ; and that, even for a quarter of a mile from the point
of contact with neighbouring granite. By this process
fossils are of course destroyed. " In some cases," says Sir
Charles Lyell, " dark limestones, replete with shells and
corals, have been turned into white statuary marble, and
hard clays, containing vegetable or other remains, into
slates called mica-schist or hornblende-schist ; every vestige
of the organic bodies having been obliterated."

Again, it is fast becoming an acknowledged truth, that
igneous rock, of whatever kind, is the product of sedimen-
tary strata that have been completely melted. Granite
and gneiss, which are of like chemical composition, have
been shown, in various cases, to pass one into the other : as
at Valorsine, near Mont Blanc, where the two, in contact,
are observed to " both undergo a modification of mineral
character. The granite still remaining unstratified, be-
comes charged with green particles ; and the talcose gneiss
assumes a granitiform structure without losing its stratifi-
cation." In the Aberdeen-granite, lumps of unmelted
gneiss are frequently found ; and we can ourselves bear
witness that on the banks of Loch Sunart, there is ample
proof that the granite of that region, when it was mol-

THE EARLIEST STRATA MELTED DP. 353

'»»en, contained incompletely-fused .clots of sedimentary
strata. Nor is this all. Fifty years ago, it was thought
that all granitic rocks were primitive, or existed before
any sedimentary strata ; but it is now " no easy task to
point out a single mass of granite demonstrably more an-
cient than all the known fossiliferous deposits."

In brief, accumulated evidence clearly shows, that by
contact with, or proximity to, the molten matter of the
Earth's nucleus, all beds of sediment are liable to be
actually melted, or partially fused, or so heated as tc
agglutinate their particles ; and that according to the tem-
perature they have been raised to, and the circumstances
under which they cool, they assume the forms of granite,
porphyry, trap, gneiss, or rock otherwise altered. Further,
it is manifest that though strata of various ages have been
thus changed, yet that the most ancient strata have been
so changed to the greatest extent : both because they
have habitually lain nearer to the centre of igneous agency;
and because they have been for a longer period liable to
the effects of this agency. Whence it follows, that sedi-
mentary strata passing a certain antiquity, are unlikely to
be found in an unmetamorphosed state ; and that strata
much earlier than those are certain to have been melted
up. Thus if, throughout a past of indefinite duration,
there had been at work those aqueous and igneous agen-
cies which we see still at work, the state of the Earth's
crust might be just what we find it. We have no evidence
which puts a limit to the period throughout which this for-
mation and destruction of strata has been going on. For
aught the facts prove, it may have been going on for ten
times the period measured by our whole series of sedimen-
tary deposits.

Besides having, in the present appearances of the
Earth's crust, no data for tixing a commencement to these
processes — besides finding that the evidence permits us to

354 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

assume such commencement to have been inconceivably
remote, as compared even with the vast eras of geology ;
we are not without positive grounds for inferring the in-
conceivable remoteness of such commencement. Modern
geology has established truths which are irreconcilable
with the belief that the formation and destruction of strata
began when the Cambrian rocks were formed ; or at any-
thing like so recent a time. One fact from Siluria will
suffice. Sir R. Murchison estimates the vertical thickness
of Silurian strata in Wales, at from 26,000 to 27,000 feet,
or about five miles ; and if to this we add the vertical
depth of the Cambrian strata, on which the Silurians lie
conformably, there results, on the lowest computation, a
total depth of seven miles.

~Now it is held by geologists, that this vast accumula-
tion of strata must have been deposited in an area of grad-
ual subsidence. These strata could not have been thus
laid on each other in regular order, unless the Earth's crust
had been at that place sinking, either continuously or by
very small steps. Such an immense subsidence, however,
must have been impossible without a crust of great thick-
ness. The Earth's molten nucleus tends ever, with enor-
mous force, to assume the form of a regular oblate sphe-
roid. Any depression of its crust below the surface of
equilibrium, and any elevation of its crust above that sur-
face, have to withstand immense resistance. It follows
inevitably that, with a thin crust, nothing but small eleva-
tions and subsidences would be possible ; and that, con-
versely, a subsidence of seven miles implies a crust of com-
paratively great strength, or, in other words, of great
thickness. Indeed, if we compare this inferred subsidence
in the Silurian period, with such elevations and depressions
as our existing continents and oceans display, we see no
evidence that the Earth's crust was appreciably thinner
then than now. What are the implications ? If, as geolo-

THE EAKLY RECORDS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. 355

gists generally admit, the Earth's crust has resulted from
that slow cooling which is even still going on — if we see no
sign that at the time when the earliest Cambrian strata
were formed, this crust was appreciably thinner than now ;
we are forced to conclude that the era during which it
acquired that great thickness possessed in the Cambrian
period, was enormous as compared with the interval be-
tween the Cambrian period and our own. But during the
incalculable series of epochs thus inferred, there existed an
ocean, tides, winds, waves, rain, rivers. The agencies by
which the denudation of continents and filling up of seas
have all along been carried on, were as active then as now.
Endless successions of strata must have been formed. And
when we ask — Where are they ? Nature's obvious reply
is — They have been destroyed by that igneous action to
which so great a part of our oldest -known strata owe their
fusion or metamorphosis.

Only the last chapter of the Earth's history has come
down to us. The many previous chapters, stretching back
to a time immeasurably remote, have been burnt ; and
with them all the records of life we may presume they con-
tained. The greater part of the evidence which might
have served to settle the Development-controversy, is for
ever lost ; and on neither side can the arguments derived
from Geology be conclusive.

" But how happen there to be such evidences of pro-
gression as exist ? " it may be asked. " How happens it
that, in ascending from the most ancient strata to the most
recent strata, we do find a succession of organic forms,
which, however irregularly, carries us from lower to high-
er ? " This question seems difficult to answer. Neverthe-
less, there is reason for thinking that nothing can be safely
inferred from the apparent progression here cited. And
the illustration w7hich shows as much, will, we believe, also
show how little trust is to be placed in certain geological

356 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

generalizations that appear to be well established. With
this somewhat elaborate illustration, to which we now pass,
our criticisms may fitly conclude.

Let us suppose that in a region now covered by wide
ocean, there begins one of those great and gradual up-
heavals by which new continents are formed. To be pre-
cise, let us say that in the South Pacific, midway between
New Zealand and Patagonia, the sea-bottom has been
little by little thrust up towards the surface, and is about
to emerge. What will be the successive phenomena,
geological and biological, WThich are likely to occur before this
emerging sea-bottom has become another Europe or Asia ?

In the first place, such portions of the incipient land as
are raised to the level of the waves, will be rapidly denud-
ed by them : their soft substance will be torn up by the
breakers, carried away by the local currents, and deposited
in neighbouring deeper water. Successive small upheavals
will bring new and larger areas within reach of the waves ;
fresh portions will each time be removed from the surfaces
previously denuded ; and further, some of the newly-form-
ed strata, being elevated nearly to the level of the water,
will be washed away and re-deposited. In course of time,
the harder formations of the upraised sea-bottom will be
uncovered. These being less easily destroyed, will remain
permanently above the surface ; and at their margins will
arise the usual breaking down of rocks into beach-sand and
pebbles. While in the slow process of this elevation, going
on at the rate of perhaps two or three feet in a century,
most of the sedimentary deposits produced will be again
and again destroyed and reformed ; there will, in those ad-
jacent areas of subsidence which accompany areas of eleva-
tion, be more or less continuous successions of sedimentary
deposits.

And now what will be the character of these new strata ?
They will necessarily contain scarcely any traces of life

SUPPOSED CASE OF A VAST UPHEAVAL. 357

The deposits that had previously been slowly formed at the
bottom of this wide ocean, would be sprinkled with fossils
of but few species. The oceanic Fauna is not a rich one :
its hydrozoa do not admit of preservation ; and the hard
parts of its few kinds of molluscs and crustaceans and in-
sects are mostly fragile. Hence, when the ocean-bed wap
here and there raised to the surface — when its strata oi
sediment with their contained organic fragments were torn
up and long washed about by the breakers before being re-
deposited — when the re-deposits were again and again sub-
ject to this violent abrading action by subsequent small ele-
vations, as they would mostly be ; what few fragile organic
remains they contained, would be in nearly all cases destroy-
ed. Thus such of the first-formed strata as survived the
repeated changes of level, would be practically " azoic ; "
like the Cambrian of our geologists. When by the wash-
ing away of the soft deposits, the hard sub-strata had been
exposed in the shape of rocky islets, and a footing had thus
been furnished, the pioneers of a new life might be expect-
ed to make their appearance. What would they be?
Not any of the surrounding oceanic species, for these are
not fitted for a littoral life ; but species flourishing on some
of the far-distant shores of the Pacific. Of such the first
to establish themselves would be sea-weeds and zoophytes ;
both because their swarming spores and gemmules would
be the most readily conveyed with safety, and because when
conveyed they would find fit food. It is true that Cirrhi-
peds and Lamellibranchs, subsisting on the minute creatures
which everywhere people the sea, would also find fit
food.

But passing over the fact that the germs of such higher
forms are neither so abundant nor so well fitted to bear
long voyages, there is the more important fact that the in-
dividuals arising from these germs can reproduce only sex-
ually, and that this vastly increases the obstacles to the es-

358 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

tablishment of their races. The chances of early coloniza-
tion are immensely in favour of species which, multiplying by
agamogenesis, can people a whole shore from a single germ ;
and immensely against species which, multiplying only by
gamogenesis, must be introduced in considerable numbers
that some may survive, meet, and propagate. Thus we in-
fer that the earliest traces of life left in the sedimentary de-
posits near these new shores, will be traces of life as humble
as that indicated in the most ancient rocks of Great Brit-
ain and Ireland. Imagine now that the processes we have
briefly indicated, continue — that the emerging lands become
wider in extent, and fringed by higher and more varied
shores; and that there still go on those ocean-currents
which, at long intervals, convey from far distant shores
immigrant forms of life. What will result ? Lapse of
time will of course favour the introduction of such new
forms : admitting, as it must, of those combinations of fit
conditions, which, under the law of probabilities, can occur
only at very distant intervals. Moreover, the increasing
area of the islands, individually and as a group, implies in-
creasing length of coast ; from which there follows a longer
line of contact with the streams and waves that bring drift-
ing masses ; and, therefore, a greater chance that germs of
fresh life will be stranded.

And once more, the comparatively-varied shores, pre-
senting physical conditions that change from mile to mile,
will furnish suitable habitats for more numerous species.
So that as the elevation proceeds, three causes conspire to
introduce additional marine plants and animals. To what
classes will the increasing Fauna be for a long period con-
fined ? Of course, to classes of which individuals, or their
germs, are most liable to be carried far away from their native
shores by floating sea-weed or drift-wood ; to classes which
are also least likely to perish in tran&it, or from change of cli-
mate ; and to those which can best subsist around coasts

COLONIZATION OF THE NEW CONTINENT. 359

comparatively bare of life. Evidently, then, corals, annelids,
inferior molluscs, and crustaceans of low grade, will chiefly
constitute the early Fauna. The large predatory members
of these classes, will be later in establishing themselves ;
both because the new shores must first become well peo-
pled by the creatures they prey on, and because, being
more complex, they or their ova must be less likely to
survive the journey, and the change of conditions.

We may infer, then, that the strata deposited next after
the almost " azoic " strata, would contain the remains of
invertebrata, allied to those found near the shores of Australia
and South America. Of such invertebrate remains, the low-
er beds would furnish comparatively few genera, and those
of relatively low types ; while in the upper beds, the num-
ber of genera would be greater, and the types higher : just as
among the fossils of our Silurian system. As this great geolo-
gic change slowly progressed through its long history of
earthquakes, volcanic disturbances, minor upheavals and sub-
sidences— as the extent of the archipelago became greater
and its smaller islands coalesced into larger ones, while its coast
line grew still longer and more varied, and the neighbouring
sea more thickly inhabited by inferior forms of life ; the lowest
division of the vertebrata would begin to be represented.
In order of time, fish would naturally come after the lower
invertebrata : both as being less likely to have their ova
transported across the waste of waters, and as requiring
for their subsistence a pre-existing Fauna of some devel-
opment. They might be expected to make their appearance
along with the predaceous crustaceans ; as they do in the
uppermost Silurian rocks.

And here, too, let us remark, that as, during this long
epoch we have been describing, the sea would have made
great inroads on some of the newly raised lands that had
remained stationary ; and would probably in some places
have reached masses of igneous or metamorphic rocks*

17

360 ILLOGICAL GEOLCGY.

there might, in course of time, arise by the decomposition
and denudation of such rocks, local deposits coloured with
oxide of iron, like our Old Red Sandstone. And in these
deposits might be buried the remains of the fish then peo
pling the neighbouring sea.

Meanwhile, how would the surfaces of the upheaved
masses be occupied ? At first their deserts of naked rocks
and pebbles would bear only the humblest forms of vegetal
life, such as we find in grey and orange patches on our
own rugged mountain sides ; for these alone could flourish
on such surfaces, and their spores would be the most read-
ily transported. When, by the decay of such protophytes,
and that decomposition of rock effected by them, there
had resulted a fit habitat for mosses ; these, of which the
germs might be conveyed in drifted trees, would begin to
spread. A soil having been eventually thus produced, it
would become possible for plants of higher organization to
find roothold ; and as in the way we have described the
archipelago and its constituent islands grew larger, and
had more multiplied relations with winds and waters, such
higher plants might be expected ultimately to have their
seeds transferred from the nearest lands. After something
like a Flora had thus colonized the surface, it would be-
come possible for insects to exist ; and of air-breathing
creatures, insects would manifestly be among the first to
find their way from elsewhere.

As, however, terrestrial organisms, both vegetal and
animal, are much less likely than marine organisms to sur-
vive the accidents of transport from distant shores ; it is
clear that long after the sea surrounding these new lands
Had acquired a varied Flora and Fauna, the lands them-
selves would still be comparatively bare ; and thus that the
early strata, like our Silurians, would afford no traces of
terrestrial life. By the time that large areas had been
raised above the ocean, we may fairly suppose a luxuriant

CONDITIONS OF COAL DEPOSIT. 361

vegetation to have been acquired. Under what circum«
stances are we likely to find this vegetation fossilized ?
Large surfaces of land imply large rivers with their accom-
panying deltas ; and are liable to have lakes and swamps
These, as we know from extant cases, are favourable t(
rank vegetation ; and afford the conditions needful for pre-
serving it in the shape of coal-beds. Observe, then, that
while in the early history of such a continent a carbonif-
erous period could not occur, the occurrence of a carbonif-
erous period would become probable after long-continued
upheavals had uncovered large areas. As in our own sedi-
mentary series, coal-beds would make their appearance only
after there had been enormous accumulations of earlier
strata charged with marine fossils.

Let us ask next, in what order the higher forms of ani-
mal life would make their appearance. We have seen how,
in the succession of marine forms, there would be some-
thing like a progress from the lower to the higher : bring-
ing us in the rend to predaceous molluscs, crustaceans, and
fish. What are likely to succeed fish ? After marine crea-
tures, those which would have the greatest chance of sur-
viving the voyage would be amphibious reptiles : both be-
cause they are more tenacious of life than higher animals,
and because they would be less completely out of their
element. Such reptiles as can live in both fresh and salt
water, like alligators ; and such as are drifted out of the
mouths of great rivers on floating trees, as Humboldt says
the Orinoco alligators are ; might be early colonists.

It is manifest, too, that reptiles of other kinds would
be among the first vertebrata to people the new continent.
If we consider what will occur on one of those natural
rafts of trees, soil, and matted vegetable matter, sometimes
swept out to sea by such currents as the Mississippi, with a
miscellaneous living cargo ; we shall see that while the
active, hot-blooded, highly-organized creatures will soou

362 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

die of starvation and exposure, the inert, cold-blooded
ones, which can go long without food, will live perhaps for
weeks ; and so, out of the chances from time to time oc-
curring during long periods, reptiles will be the first to get
safely landed on foreign shores : as indeed, they are even
now known sometimes to be. The transport of mammalia
being comparatively precarious, must, in the order of prob-
ability, be longer postponed ; and would, indeed, be un-
likely to occur until by the enlargement of the new conti-
nent, the distances of its shores from adjacent lands had
been greatly diminished, or the formation of intervening
islands had increased the chances of survival.

Assuming, however, that the facilities of immigration
had become adequate ; which would be the first mammals
to arrive and live ? Not large herbivores ; for they would
be soon drowned if by any accident carried out to sea.
Not the carnivora ; for these would lack appropriate food,
even if they outlived the voyage. Small quadrupeds fre-
quenting trees, and feeding on insects, would be those most
likely both to be drifted away from their native lands and
to find fit food in a new one. Insectivorous mammals, like
in size to those found in the Trias and the Stonesfield slate,
might naturally be looked for as the pioneers of the higher
vertebrata. And if we suppose the facilities of communi-
cation to be again increased, either by a further shallowing
of the intervening sea and a consequent multiplication of
islands, or by an actual junction of the new continent with
an old one, through continued upheavals ; we should finally
have an influx of the larger and more perfect mammals.

Now rude as is this sketch of a process that would be
extremely elaborate and involved, and open as some of its
propositions are to criticisms which there vs no space here
to meet ; no one will deny that it represents something liko
the biologic history of the supposed new continent. De
tails apart, it is manifest that simple organisms, able to

HIGHEB LIFE UPON THE NEW CONTINENT. 363

flourish under simple conditions of life, would be the first
successful immigrants ; and that more complex organisms^
needing for their existence the fulfilment of more complex
conditions, would afterwards establish themselves in some-
thing like an ascending succession. At the one extreme
we see every facility. The new individuals can be con-
veyed in the shape of minute germs ; these are infinite in
their numbers ; they are diffused in the sea ; they are per-
petually being carried in all directions to great distances
by ocean-currents ; they can survive such long journeys
unharmed ; they can find nutriment wherever they arrive ;
and the resulting organisms can multiply asexually with
great rapidity.

At the other extreme, we see every difficulty. The
dew individuals must be conveyed in their adult forms ;
their numbers are, in comparison, utterly insignificant ;
they live on land, and are very unlikely to be carried out
to sea ; when so carried, the chances are immense against
their escape from drowning, starvation, or death by cold ;
if they survive the transit, they must have a pre-existing
Flora or Fauna to supply their special food ; they require,
also, the fulfilment of various other physical conditions ;
and unless at least two individuals of different sexes are
safely landed, the race cannot be established. Manifestly,
then, the immigration of each successively higher order of
organisms, having, from one or other additional condition
to be fulfilled, an enormously-increased probability against
it, would naturally be separated from the immigration of a
lower order by some period like a geologic epoch.

And thus the successive sedimentary deposits formed
while this new continent was undergoing gradual elevation,
would seem to furnish clear evidence of a general progress
in the forms of life. That lands thus raised up in the midst
of a wide ocean, would first give origin to unfossiliferous
6trata ; next, to strata containing only the lowest marine

364: ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.

forms ; next, to strata containing higher marine forms, as-
cending finally to fish ; and that the strata above these
would contain reptiles, then small mammals, then great
mammals ; seems to us to be demonstrable from the known
laws of organic life.

And if the succession of fossils presented by the strata
of this supposed new continent, would thus simulate the
succession presented by our own sedimentary series ; must
we not say that our own sedimentary series very possibly
records nothing more than the phenomena accompanying
one of these great upheavals ? We think this must be
considered not only possible, but highly probable : har-
monizing as it does with the unavoidable conclusion before
pointed out, that geological changes must have been going
on for a period immeasurably greater than that of which
we have records. And if the probability of this conclu-
sion be admitted, it must be admitted that the facts of
Palaeontology can never suflice either to prove or disprove
the Development Hypothesis ; but that the most they can
do is, to show whether the last few pages of the Earth's
biologic history are or are not in harmony with this hy-
pothesis— whether the existing Flora and Fauna can or can
not be affiliated upon the Flora and Fauna of the most re'
cent geologic times.

IX.
THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS.

IN a debate upon the development hypothesis, lately nar
rated to me by a friend, one of the disputants was de-
scribed as arguing, that as, in all our experience, we know
no such phenomenon as transmutation of species, it is un-
philosophical to assume that transmutation of species ever
takes place. Had I been present, I think that, passing over
his assertion, which is open to criticism, I should have re-
plied that, as in all our experience we have never known a
species created^ it was, by his own showing, unphilosophical
to assume that any species ever had been created.

Those who cavalierly reject the Theory of Evolution, as
not adequately supported by facts, seem quite to forget
that their own theory is supported by no facts at all. Like
the majority of men who are born to a given belief, they
demand the most rigorous proof of any adverse belief, but
assume that their own needs none. Here we find, scattered
over the globe, vegetable and animal organisms numbering,
of the one kind (according to Humboldt), some 320,000
species, and of the other, some 2,000,000 species (see Car-
penter) ; and if to these we add the numbers of animal and
vegetable species that have become extinct, we may safely
estimate the number of species that have existed, and are

366 THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS.

existing, on the Earth, at not less than ten millions. Well,
which is the most rational theory about these ten millions
of species ? Is it most likely that there have been ten mil-
lions of special creations ? or is it most likely that by con-
tinual modifications, due to change of circumstances, ten
millions of varieties have been produced, as varieties are
being produced still ?

Doubtless many will reply that they can more easily
conceive ten millions of special creations to have taken
place, than they can conceive that ten millions of varieties
have arisen by successive modifications. All such, howev-
er, will find, on inquiry, that they are under an illusion.
This is one of the many cases in which men do not really
believe, but rather believe they believe. It is not that they
can truly conceive ten millions of special creations to have
taken place, but that they think they can do so. Careful
introspection will show them that they have never yet real-
ized to themselves the creation of even one species. If
they have formed a definite conception of the process, let
them tell us how a new species is constructed, and how it
makes its appearance. Is it thrown down from the clouds?
or must we hold to the notion that it struggles up out of
the ground ? Do its limbs and viscera rush together from
all the points of the compass ? or must we receive the old
Hebrew idea, that God takes clay and moulds a new crea-
ture ? If they say that a new creature is produced in none
of these modes, which are too absurd to be believed ; then
they are required to describe the mode in which a new
creature may be produced — a mode which does not seem
absurd : and such a mode they will find that they neither
have conceived nor can conceive.

Should the believers in special creations consider it un-
fair thus to call upon them to describe how special creations
take place, I reply, that this is far less than they demand
from the supporters of the Development Hypothesis, They

IMPRESSIBILITY OF ORGANISMS. 367

are merely asked to point out a conceivable mode. On the
other hand, they ask, not simply for a conceivable mode,
but for the actual mode. They do not say — Show us how
this may take place ; but they say — Show us how this does
take place. So far from its being unreasonable to put the
above question, it would be reasonable to ask not only for
& possible mode of special creation, but for an ascertained
mode ; seeing that this is no greater a demand than they
make upon their opponents.

And here we may perceive how much more defensible
the new doctrine is than the old one. Even could the sup-
porters of the Development Hypothesis merely show that
the origination of species by the process of modification is
conceivable, they would be in a better position than their
opponents. But they can do much more than this. They
can show that the process of modification has effected, and
is effecting, decided changes in all organisms subject to
modifying influences. Though, from the impossibility of
getting at a sufficiency of facts, they are unable to trace
the many phases through which any existing species has
passed in arriving at its present form, or to identify the in-
fluences which caused the successive modifications ; yet,
they can show that any existing species — animal or vegeta-
ble— when placed under conditions different from its pre-
vious ones, immediately begins to undergo certain changes
of structure fitting it for the new conditions. They can
show that in successive generations these changes continue,
until ultimately the new conditions become the natural
ones. They can show that in cultivated plants, in domesti-
cated animals, and in the several races of men, such altera-
tions have taken place. They can show that the degrees
of difference so produced are often, as in dogs, greater than
those on which distinctions of species are in other cases
founded. They can show that it is a matter of dispute
whether some of these modified forms are varieties or sepa-

368 THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS.

rate species. They can show, too, that the changes daily
taking place in ourselves — the facility that attends long
practice, and the loss of aptitude that begins when practice
ceases — the strengthening of passions habitually gratified,
and the weakening of those habitually curbed — the devel-
opment of every faculty, bodily, moral, or intellectual, ac-
cording to the use made of it — are all explicable on this
same principle. And thus they can show that throughout
all organic nature there is at work a modifying influence
of the kind they assign as the cause of these specific differ-
ences : an influence which, though slow in its action, does,
in time, if the circumstances demand it, produce marked
changes — an influence which, to all appearance, would pro-
duce in the millions of years, and under the great varieties
of condition which geological records imply, any amount
of change.

Which, then, is the most rational hypothesis ? — that of
special creations which has neither a fact to support it nor
is even definitely conceivable ; or that of modification,
which is not only definitely conceivable, but is countenanced
by the habitudes of every existing organism ?

That by any series of changes a protozoon should ever
become a mammal, seems to those who are not familiar
with zoology, and who have not seen how clear becomes
the relationship between the simplest and the most com-
plex forms when intermediate forms are examined, a very
grotesque notion. Habitually looking at things rather in
their statical than in their dynamical aspect, they nevei
realize the fact that, by small increments of modification,
any amount of modification may in time be generated.
That surprise which they feel on finding one whom they
last saw as a boy, grown into a man, becomes incredulity
when the degree of change is greater. Nevertheless, abun-
dant instances are at hand of the mode in which we may
pass to the most diverse forms, by insensible gradations.

EFFECTS OF INSENSIBLE MODIFICATIONS. 369

Arguing the matter some time since with a learned pro-
fessor, I illustrated my position thus: — You admit that
there is no apparent relationship between a circle and an
hyperbola. The one is a finite curve ; the other is an in-
finite one. All parts of the one are alike ; of the other no
two parts are alike. The one incloses a space ; the other
will not inclose a space though produced for ever. Yet
opposite as are these curves in all their properties, they
may be connected together by a series of intermediate
curves, no one of which differs from the adjacent ones in
any appreciable degree. Thus, if a cone be cut by a plane
at right angles to its axis we get a circle. If, instead of
being perfectly at right angles, the plane subtends with the
axis an angle of 89° 59', we have an ellipse, which no hu-
man eye, even when aided by an accurate pair of compasses,
can distinguish from a circle. Decreasing the angle min-
ute by minute, the ellipse becomes first perceptibly eccen-
tric, then manifestly so, and by and by acquires so im-
mensely elongated a form, as to bear no recognisable re-
semblance to a circle. By continuing this process, the
ellipse passes insensibly into a parabola ; and ultimately, by
still further diminishing the angle, into an hyperbola. Now
here we have four different species of curve — circle, ellipse,
parabola, and hyperbola — each having its peculiar proper-
ties and its separate equation, and the first and last of which
are quite opposite in nature, connected together as mem-
bers of one series, all producible by a single process of in-
sensible modification.

But the blindness of those who think it absurd to sup-
pose that complex organic forms may have arisen by suc-
cessive modifications out of simple ones, becomes astonish-
ing when we remember that complex organic forms are
daily being thus produced. A tree differs from a seed
immeasurably in every respect — in bulk, in structure, in
colour, in form, in specific gravity, in chemical composition :

370 THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS.

differs so greatly that no visible resemblance of any kind
can be pointed ont between them. Yet is the one changed
in the course of a few years into the other : changed so
gradually, that at no moment can it be said — -Now the
seed ceases to be, and the tree exists. What can be more
widely contrasted than a newly-born child and the small,
semi-transparent, gelatinous spherule constituting the hu-
man ovum ? The infant is so complex in structure that a
cyclopaedia is needed to describe its constituent parts.
The germinal vesicle is so simple that it may be defined in
a line. Nevertheless, a few months suffice to develop the
one out of the other ; and that, too, by a series of modifi-
cations so small, that were the embryo examined at succes-
sive minutes, even a microscope would with difficulty dis-
close any sensible changes. That the uneducated and the
ill-educated should think the hypothesis that all races of
beings, man inclusive, may in process of time have been
evolved from the simplest monad, a ludicrous one, is not to
be wondered at. But for the physiologist, who knows that
every individual being is so evolved — who knows further,
that in their earliest condition the germs of all plants and
animals whatever are so similar, "that there is no apprecia-
ble distinction amongst them which would enable it to be
determined whether a particular molecule is the germ of a
conferva or of an oak, of a zoophyte or of a man ; " * — for
him to make a difficulty of the matter is inexcusable. Sure-
ly if a single cell may, when subjected to certain influences,
become a man in the space of twenty years ; there is
nothing absurd in the hypothesis that under certain other
influences, a cell may in the course of millions of years
give origin to the human race. The two processes are
generically the same ; and differ only in length and com-
plexity.

We have, indeed, in the part taken by many scientific

* Carpenter.

SOURCE OF THE NOTION OF SPECIAL CREATIONS. 371

men in this controversy of " Law versus Miracle," a good
illustration of the tenacious vitality of superstitions. Ask
one of our leading geologists or physiologists whether he
believes in the Mosaic account of the creation, and he will
take the question as next to an insult. Either he rejects
the narrative entirely, or understands it in some vague
non-natural sense. Yet one part of it he unconsciously
adopts ; and that, too, literally. For whence has he got
this notion of " special creations," which he thinks so
reasonable, and fights for so vigorously ? Evidently he
can trace it back to no other source than this myth which
he repudiates. He has not a single fact in nature to quote
in proof of it; nor is he prepared with any chain of abstract
reasoning by which it may be established. Catechise him,
and he will be forced to confess that the notion was put into
his mind in childhood as part of a story which he now
thinks absurd. And why, after rejecting all the rest of this
story, he should strenuously defend this last remnant of it
as though he had received it on valid authority, he would
be puzzled to say.

X.

THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

SIR JAMES MACINTOSH got great credit for the
saying, that " constitutions are not made, but grow."
In our day, the most significant thing about this saying is,
that it was ever thought so significant. As from the sur-
prise displayed by a man at some familiar fact, you may
judge of his general culture ; so from the admiration
which an age accords to a new thought, its average degree
of enlightenment may be inferred. That this apophthegm
of Macintosh should have been quoted and re-quoted as it
has, shows how profound has been the ignorance of social
science. A small ray of truth has seemed brilliant, as a
distant rushlight looks like a star in the surrounding daik-
ness.

Such a conception could not, indeed, fail to be startling
when let fall in the midst of a system of thought to which
it was utterly alien. Universally in Macintosh's day, things
were explained on the hypothesis of manufacture, rather
than that of growth : as indeed they are, by the majority,
in our own day. It was held that the planets were sever-
ally projected round the sun from the Creator's hand ; with
exactly the velocity required to balance the sun's attrac-
tion. The formation of the Earth, the separation of sea
from land, the production of animals, were mechanical

SOCIETIES ARE NOT MADE, BUT GROW. 373

works from which God rested as a labourer rests. Man
was supposed to be moulded after a manner somewhat akin
to that in which a modeller makes a clay-figure. And of
course, in harmony with such ideas, societies were tacitly
assumed to be arranged thus or thus by direct interposition
of Providence ; or by the regulations of law-makers ; or by
both.

Yet that societies are not artificially put together, is a
truth so manifest, that it seems wonderful men should have
ever overlooked it. Perhaps nothing more clearly shows
the small value of historical studies, as they have been
commonly pursued. You need but to look at the changes
going on around, or observe social organization in its lead-
ing peculiarities, to see that these are neither supernatural,
nor are determined by the wills of individual men, as by
implication historians commonly teach ; but are consequent
on general natural causes. The one case of the division of
labour suffices to show this. It has not been by command
of any ruler that some men have become manufacturers,
while others have remained cultivators of the soil. In
Lancashire, millions have devoted themselves to the making
of cotton-fabrics ; in Yorkshire, another million lives by
producing woollens ; and the pottery of Staffordshire, the
cutlery of Sheffield, the hardware of Birmingham, severally
occupy their hundreds of thousands. These are large
facts in the structure of English society ; but we can as-
cribe them neither to miracle, nor to legislation. It is not
by " the hero as king," any more than by " collective wis-
dom," that men have been segregated into producers,
wholesale distributors, and retail distributors.

The whole of our industrial organization, from its main
outlines down to its minutest details, has become what it
is, not simply without legislative guidance, but, to a con-
siderable extent, in spite of legislative hindrances. It has
arisen under the pressure of human wants and activities.

374 THE SOCIAL OEGANISM.

While each citizen has been pursuing his individual wel
fare, and none taking thought about division of labour, or,
indeed, conscious of the need for it, division of labour has
yet been ever becoming more complete. It has been doing
this slowly and silently : scarcely any having observed it
until quite modern times. By steps so small, that year
after year the industrial arrangements have seemed to men
just what they were before — by changes as insensible as
those through which a seed passes into a tree ; society has
become the complex body of mutually-dependent workers
which we now see. And this economic organization, mark,
is the all-essential organization. Through the combination
thus spontaneously evolved, every citizen is supplied with
daily necessaries ; while he yields some product or aid to
others. That we are severally alive to-day, we owe to the
regular working of this combination during the past week ;
and could it be suddenly abolished, a great proportion of
us would be dead before another week ended. If these
most conspicuous and vital arrangements of our social
structure, have arisen without the devising of any one, but
through the individual efforts of citizens to satisfy their
own wants ; we may be tolerably certain that the less im-
portant arrangements have similarly arisen.

" But surely," it will be said, " the social changes di-
rectly produced by law, cannot be classed as spontaneous
growths. "When parliaments or kings order this or that
thing to be done, and appoint officials to do it, the process
is clearly artificial ; and society to this extent becomes a
manufacture rather than a growth.'' No, not even these
changes are exceptions, if they be real and permanent
changes. The true sources of such changes lie deeper
than the acts of legislators. To take first the simplest
instance. We all know that the enactments of represent-
ative governments ultimately depend on the national
will : they may for a time be out of harmony with it, but

GOVERNMENTS EOOTED IN SOCIAL LIFE. 375

eventually they must conform to it. And to say that the
national will finally determines them, is to say that they
result from the average of individual desires ; or, in
other words — from the average of individual natures. A
law so initiated, therefore, really grows out of the popular
character.

In the case of a Government representing a dominant
class, the same things holds, though not so manifestly.
For the very existence of a class monopolizing all power, is
due to certain sentiments in the commonalty. But for the
feeling of loyalty on the part of retainers, a feudal system
could not exist. We see in the protest of the Highlanders
against the abolition of heritable jurisdictions, that they
preferred that kind of local rule. And if to the popular
nature, must thus be ascribed the growth of an irresponsi-
ble ruling class ; then to the popular nature must be as-
cribed the social arrangements which that class creates in
the pursuit of its own ends. Even where the Government
is despotic, the doctrine still holds. The character of the
people is, as before, the original source of this political
form; and, as we have abundant proof, other forms sud-
denly created will not act, but rapidly retrograde to the
old form. Moreover, such regulations as a despot makes,
if really operative, are so because of their fitness to the
social state. His acts being very much swayed by gen-
eral opinion — by precedent, by the feeling of his nobles,
his priesthood, his army — are in part immediate results
of the national character ; and when they are out of har-
mony with the national character, they are soon practically
abrogated.

The failure of Cromwell permanently to establish a new
social condition, and the rapid revival of suppressed institu-
tions and practices after his death, show how powerless is
a monarch to change the type of the society he governs.
He may disturb, he may retard, or he may aid the natural

376 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

process of organization ; but the general course of this
process is beyond his control. ISTay, more than this is true.
Those who regard the histories of societies as the histories
of their great men, and think that these great men shape
the fates of their societies, overlook the . truth that such
great men are the products of their societies. Without cer-
tain antecedents — without a certain average national char-
acter, they could neither have been generated nor could
have had the culture which formed them. If their society
is to some extent re-moulded by them, they were, both
before and after birth, moulded by their society — were the
results of all those influences which fostered the ancestral
character they inherited, and gave their own early bias, their
creed, morals, knowledge, aspirations. So that such social
changes as are immediately traceable to individuals of un-
usual power, are still remotely traceable to the social causes
which produced these individuals, and hence, from the
highest point of view, such social changes also, are parts
of the general developmental process.

Thus that which is so obviously true of the industrial
structure of society, is true of its whole structure. The fact
that " constitutions are not made, but grow," is simply a
fragment of the much larger fact, that under all its aspects
and though all its ramifications, society is a growth and not
a manufacture.

A perception that there exists some analogy between
the body politic and a living individual body, was early
reached ; and from time to time re-appeared in literature.
But this perception was necessarily vague and more or
less fanciful. In the absence of physiological science, and
especially of those comprehensive generalizations which it
has but recently reached, it was impossible to discern the
real parallelisms.

The central idea of Plato's model Republic, is the cor

THEORIES OF PLATO AND HOBBES. 377

respondence between the parts of a society and the faculties
of the human mind. Classifying these faculties under the
heads of Reason, "Will, and Passion, he classifies the mem-
bers of his ideal society under what he regards as three
analogous heads : — councillors, who are to exercise govern-
ment; military or executive, who are to fulfil their behests;
and the commonalty, bent on gain and selfish gratification.
In other words, the ruler, the warrior, and the craftsman,
are, according to him, the analogues of our reflective, voli-
tional, and emotional powers. "Now even were there truth
in the implied assumption of a parallelism between the
structure of a society and that of a man, this classification
would be indefensible. It might more truly be contended
that, as the military power obeys *the commands of the
Government, it is the Government which answers to the
Will ; while the military power is simply an agency set in
motion by it. Or, again, it might be contended that
whereas the "Will is a product of predominant desires, to
which the Reason serves merely as an eye, it is the crafts-
men, who, according to the alleged analogy, ought to be
the moving power of the warriors.

Hobbes sought to establish a still more definite parallel-
ism : not, however between a society and the human mind,
but between a society and the human body. In the intro-
duction to the work in which he developes this conception,
he says —

" For by art is created that great Leviathan called a Com-
monwealth, or State, in Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial
man ; though of greater stature and strength than the natural,
for whose protection and defence it was intended, and in which
the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life and motion to
the whole body ; the magistrates and other officers of judica-
ture and execution, artificial joints ; reward and punishment, by
which, fastened to the seat of the sovereignty, every joint and
member is moved to perform his duty, are the nerves, that do

378 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

the same in the body natural ; the wealth and riches of all the
particular members are the strength ; salus populi, the peopled
safety, its business ; counsellors, by whom all things needful for it
to know are suggested unto it, are the memory ; equity and laws
an artificial reason and will ; concord, health ; sedition, sickness ;
civil war, death."

And Hobbes carries this comparison so far as actually
to give a drawing of the Leviathan — a vast human-shaped
figure, whose body and limbs are made up of multitudes of
men. Just noting that these different analogies asserted
by Plato and Hobbes, serve to cancel each other (being, as
they are, so completely at variance), we may say that on
the whole those of Hobbes are the more plausible. But
they are full of inconsistencies. If the sovereignty is the
soul of the body politic, how can it be that magistrates,
who are a kind of deputy-sovereigns, should be comparable
to joints? Or, again, how can the three mental functions,
memory, reason, and will, be severally analogous, the first to
counsellors, who are a class of public officers, and the other
two to equity and laws, which are not classes of officers,
but abstractions ? Or, once more, if magistrates are the
artificial joints of society, how can reward and punishment
be its nerves ? Its nerves must surely be some class of
persons. Reward and punishment must in societies, as in
individuals, be conditions of the nerves, and not the nerves
themselves.

But the chief errors of these comparisons made by Plato
and Hobbes, lie much deeper. Both thinkers assume that
the organization of a society is comparable, not simply to
the organization of a living body in general, but to the or-
ganization of the human body in particular. There is no
warrant whatever for assuming this. It is in no way im-
plied by the evidence ; and is simply one of those fancies
which we commonly find mixed up with the truths of early
speculation. Still more erroneous are the two conceptions

ERRORS OF PLATO AND HOBBE8. 379

in this, that they construe a society as an artificial struc-
ture. Plato's model republic — his ideal of a healthful body
politic — is to be consciously put together by men ; just as
a watch might be : and Plato manifestly thinks of societies
in general as thus originated. Quite specifically does
Hobbes express this view. "For by art" he says, "i.a
created that great Leviathan called a Commonwealth. "
And he even goes so far as to compare the supposed
social contract, from which a society suddenly originates,
to the creation of a man by the divine fiat. Thus they
both fall into the extreme inconsistency of considering a
community as similar in structure to a human being, and
yet as produced in the same way as an artificial mechanism
— in nature, an organism ; in history, a machine.

Notwithstanding errors, however, these speculations
have considerable significance. That such analogies, crude-
ly as they are thought out, should have been alleged by
Plato and Hobbes and many others, is a reason for suspect-
ing that some analogy exists. The untenableness of the
particular comparisons above instanced, is no ground for
denying an essential parallelism ; for early ideas are usually
but vague adumbrations of the truth. Lacking the great
generalizations of biology, it \was, as we have said, im-
possible to trace out the real relations of social organiza-
tions to organizations of another order. We propose here
to show what are the analogies which modern science dis-
closes to us.

Let us set out by succinctly stating the points of
similarity and the points of difference. Societies agree
with individual organisms in four conspicuous peculiari-
ties : —

1. That commencing as small aggregations, they insensi-
bly augment in mass : some of them eventually reaching
ten thousand times what they originally were.

2. That while at first so simple in structure as to be

3S0 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

considered structureless, they assume, in the course of
their growth, a continually-increasing complexity of
structure.

3. That though in their early, undeveloped states,
there exists in them scarcely any mutual dependence of
parts, their parts gradually acquire a mutual dependence ;
which becomes at last so great, that the activity and life
of each part is made possible only by the activity and life
of the rest.

4. That the life and development of a society is inde-
pendent of, and far more prolonged than, the life and de-
velopment of any of its component units ; who are severally
born, grow, work^ reproduce, and die, while the body poli-
tic composed of them survives generation after generation,
increasing in mass, completeness of structure, and func-
tional activity.

These four parallelisms will appear the more significant
the more we contemplate them. While the points speci-
fied, are points in which societies agree with individual or-
ganisms, they are points in which individual organisms
agree with each other, and disagree with all things else.
In the course of its existence, every plant and animal in-
creases in mass, in a way not parallelled by inorganic ob
jects : even such inorganic objects as crystals, which arise
by growth, show us no such definite relation between
growth and existence as organisms do. The orderly pro-
gress from simplicity to complexity, displayed by bodies
politic in common with all living bodies, is a characteristic
which distinguishes living bodies from the inanimate bodies
amid which they move. That functional dependence of
parts, which is scarcely more manifest in animals or plants
than nations, has no counterpart elsewhere. And in no
aggregate except an organic, or a social one, is there a
perpetual removal and replacement of parts, joined with a
continued integrity of the whole.

ANALOGIES WITH THE VITAL ORGANISM. 381

Moreover, societies and organisms are not only alike in
these peculiarities, in which they are unlike all other
things ; but the highest societies, like the highest organ
isms, exhibit them in the greatest degree. We see that
the lowest animals do not increase to anything like the
sizes of the higher ones ; and, similarly, we see that aborigi-
nal societies are comparatively limited in their growths.
In complexity, our large civilized nations as much exceed
primitive savage tribes, as a vertebrate animal does a
zoophyte. Simple communities, like simple creatures,
have so little mutual dependence of parts, that subdivision
or mutilation causes but little inconvenience ; but from
complex communities, as from complex creatures, you can-
not remove any considerable organ without producing
great disturbance or death of the rest. And in societies
of low type, as in inferior animals, the life of the aggregate,
often cut short by division or dissolution, exceeds in length
the lives of the component units, very far less than in civi-
lized communities and superior animals ; which outlive
many generations of their component units.

On the other hand, the leading differences between
societies and individual organisms are these : —

1. That societies have no specific external forms. This,
however, is a point of contrast which loses much of its im-
portance, when we remember that throughout the vegetal
kingdom, as well as in some lower divisions of the animal
kingdom, the forms are often very indefinite — definiteness
being rather the exception than the rule ; and that they
are manifestly in part determined by surrounding physical
circumstances, as the forms of societies are. If, too, it
should eventually be shown, as we believe it will, that the
form of every species of organism has resulted from the
average play of the external forces to which it has been
Bubject during its evolution as a species; then, that the
external forms of societies should depend, as they do,

382 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

on surrounding conditions, will be a further point of con*
munity.

2. That though the living tissue whereof an individual
organism consists, forms a continuous mass, the living ele-
ments of a society do not form a continuous mass ; but are
more qt less widely dispersed over some portion of the
Earth's surface. This, which at first sight appears to be a
fundamental distinction, is one which yet to a great extent
disappears when we contemplate all the facts. For, in the
lower divisions of the animal and vegetal kingdoms, there
are types of organization much more nearly allied, in this
respect, to the organization of a society, than might be sup-
posed— types in which the living units essentially compos-
ing the mass, are dispersed through an inert substance,
that can scarcely be called living in the full sense of the
word. It is thus with some of the Protococci and with the
JVostocece, which exist as cells imbedded in a viscid matter.
It is so, too, with the TlialassicollcB— bodies that are made
up of differentiated parts, dispersed through an undifferenti-
ated jelly. And throughout considerable portions of their
bodies, some of the Acalephce exhibit more or less distinct-
ly this type of structure.

Indeed, it may be contended that this is the primitive
tbrm of all organization ; seeing that, even in the highest
creatures, as in ourselves, every tissue developes out of
what physiologists call a blastema — an unorganized though
organizable substance, through which organic points are
distributed. ~Now this is very much the case with a
society. For we must remember that though the men
who make up a society, are physically separate and even
scattered ; yet that the surface over which they are scatter-
ed is not one devoid of life, but is covered by life of a lower
order which ministers to their life. The vegetation which
clothes a country, makes possible the animal life in that
country ; and only through its animal and vegetal product!

CONTRASTS WITH THE VITAL ORGANISM. 3 S3

can such a country support a human society. Hence the
members of the body politic are not to be regarded as
separated by intervals of dead space ; but as diffused
through a space occupied by life of a lower order. In our
conception of a social organism, we must include all that
lower organic existence on which human existence, and
therefore social existence, depends. And when we do
this, we see that the citizens who make up a community,
may be considered as highly vitalized units surrounded
by substances of lower vitality, from which they draw
their nutriment : much as in the cases above instanced.
Thus, when examined, this apparent distinction in great
part disappears.

3. That while the ultimate living elements of an indi-
vidual organism, are mostly fixed in their relative positions,
those of the social organism are capable of moving from
place to place, seems a marked disagreement. But here,
too, the disagreement is much less than would be supposed.
For while citizens are locomotive in their private capacities,
they are fixed in their public capacities. As farmers, man-
ufacturers, or traders, men carry on their business at the
same spots, often throughout their whole lives ; and if they
go away occasionally, they leave behind others to discharge
their functions in their absence. Each great centre of pro-
duction, each manufacturing town or district, continues
always in the same place ; and many of the firms in such
town or district, are for generations carried on either by
the descendants or successors of those who founded them.
Just as in a living body, the cells that make up some im-
portant organ, severally perform their functions for a time
and then disappear, leaving others to supply their places ;
so, in each part of a society, the organ remains, though the
persons who compose it change. Thus, in social life, as
in the life of an animal, the units as well as the larger
agencies formed of them, are in the main stationary as
18

884 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

respects the places where they discharge their duties and
obtain their sustenance. And hence the power of indivi-
dual locomotion does not practically affect the analogy.

4. The last and perhaps the most important distinction,
is, that while in the body of an animal, only a special tissue
is endowed with feeling ; in a society, all the members are
endowed with feeling. Even this distinction, however, is
by no means a complete one. For in some of the lowest
animals, characterized by the absence of a nervous system,
such sensitiveness as exists is possessed by all parts. It is
only in the more organized forms that feeling is monopo-
lized by one class of the vital elements. Moreover, we
must remember that societies, too, are not without a cer-
tain differentiation of this kind. Though the units of a
community are all sensitive, yet they are so in unequal de-
grees. The classes engaged in agriculture and laborious
occupations in general, are much less susceptible, intellec-
tually and emotionally, than the rest ; and especially less so
than the classes of highest mental culture. Still, we have
here a tolerably decided contrast between bodies politic
and individual bodies. And it is one which we should
keep constantly in view. For it reminds us that while in
individual bodies, the welfare of all other parts is rightly
subservient to the welfare of the nervous system, whose
pleasurable or painful activities make up the good or evil
of life ; in bodies politic, the same thing does not hold, or
holds to but a very slight extent. It is well that the lives
of all parts of an animal should be merged in the life of the
whole ; because the whole has a corporate consciousness
capable of happiness or misery. But it is not so with a
society ; since its living units do not and cannot lose indi-
vidual consciousness ; and since the community as a whole
has no corporate consciousness. And this is an everlast-
ing reason why the welfare of citizens cannot rightly be
sacrificed to some supposed benefit of the State; but

EXTENT OF THE ANALOGIES. 385

why, on the other hand, the State is to be maintained
solely for the benefit of citizens. The corporate life must
here be subservient to the lives of the parts ; instead
of the lives of the parts being subservient to the oorpo
rate life.

Such, then, are the points of analogy and the points of
difference. May we not say that the points of difference
serve but to bring into clearer light the points of analogy.
While comparison makes definite the obvious contrasts be-
tween organisms commonly so called, and the social organ-
ism ; it shows that even these contrasts are not so decided
as wras to be expected. The indefiniteness of form, the
discontinuity of the parts, the mobility of the parts, and
the universal sensitiveness, are not only peculiarities of the
social organism which have to be stated with considerable
qualifications ; but they are peculiarities to which the in-
ferior classes of animals present approximations. Thus we
find but little to conflict with the all-important analogies
That societies slowly augment in mass ; that they progress
in complexity of structure ; that at the same time their parts
become more mutually dependent ; that their living units
are removed and replaced without destroying their in-
tegrity ; and further, that the extents to which they dis-
play these peculiarities are proportionate to their vital ac-
tivities ; are traits that societies have in common with
organic bodies. And these traits in which they agree with
organic bodies and disagree with all other things — these
traits which in truth specially characterize organic bodies,
entirely subordinate the minor distinctions : such distinc-
tions being scarcely greater than those which separate one
half of the organic kingdom from the other. The princi-
ples of organization are the same ; and the differences are
simply differences of application.

Here ending this general survey of the facts which
justify the comparison of a society to a living body ;

388 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

let us look at them in detail. We shall find that the
parallelism becomes the more marked the more closely
it is traced.

The lowest animal and vegetal forms — Protozoa and
Protophyta — are chiefly inhabitants of the water. They
are minute bodies, most of which are made individually
visible only by the microscope. All of them are extremely
simple in structure ; and some of them, as the Phizopods,
almost structureless. Multiplying, as they ordinarily do,
by the spontaneous division of their bodies, they produce
halves, which may either become quite separate and move
away in different directions, or may continue attached.
By the repetition of this process of fission, aggregations of
various sizes and kinds are formed. Among the Proto-
phyta we have some classes, as the JDiatomacece and the
Yeast-plant, in which the individuals may be either sepa-
rate, or attached in groups of two, three, four, or more ;
other classes in which a considerable number of individual
cells are united into a thread ( Conferva, Monilia) ; others
in which they form a net work (Hydrodictyon) ; others in
which they form plates ( XTlva) ; and others in which they
form masses (Paminaria, Agaricus) : all which vegetal
forms, having no distinction of root, stem, or leaf, are called
Thallogens. Among the Protozoa we find parallel facts.
Immense numbers of Ammba-lihe creatures, massed togeth-
er in a framework of horny fibres, constitute Sponge. In
the JFbraminifera, we see smaller groups of such creatures
arranged into more definite shapes. Not only do these
almost structureless Protozoa unite into regular or irregu-
lar aggregations of various sizes ; but among some of the
more organized ones, as the V^orticellm, there are also pro-
duced clusters of individuals, proceeding from a common
stock. But these little societies of monads, or cells, or
whatever else we may call them, are societies only in the

ANALOGIES AMONG INFERIOR STRUCTURES. 387

lowest sense : there is no subordination of parts among
them — no organization. Each of the component units
lives by and for itself; neither giving nor receiving aid.
There is no mutual dependence, save that consequent on
mere mechanical union.

Now do we not here discern analogies to the first
stages of human societies ? Among the lowest races, as the
Bushmen, we find but incipient aggregation : sometimes
single families ; sometimes two or three families wandering
about together. The number of associated units is small
and variable ; and their union inconstant. No division of
labour exists except between the sexes ; and the only kind
of mutual aid is that of joint attack or defence. We see
nothing beyond an undifferentiated group of individuals,
forming the germ of a society ; just as in the homogeneous
groups of cells above described, we see only the initial stage
of animal and vegetal organization.

The comparison may now be carried a step higher. In
the vegetal kingdom we pass from the Thallogens, consist-
ing of mere masses of similar cells, to the Acrogens, in
which the cells are not similar throughout the whole mass ;
but are here aggregated into a structure serving as leaf,
and there into a structure serving as root : thus forming a
whole in which there is a certain subdivision of functions
among the units ; and therefore a certain mutual dependence.
In the animal kingdom we find analogous progress. From
mere unorganized groups of cells, or cell-like bodies, we
ascend to groups of such cells arranged into parts that
have different duties. The common Polype, from whose
substance may be separated individual cells which exhibit,
when detached, appearances and movements like those of
the solitary Amoeba, illustrates this stage. The compo
nent units, though still showing great community of char-
acter, assume somewhat diverse functions in the skin, in
the internal surface, and in the tentacles. There is a cer
tain amount of " physiological division of labour.' »

388 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

Turning to societies, we find these stages paralleled in the
majority of aboriginal tribes. "When, instead of such small
variable groups as are formed by Bushmen, we come to
the larger and more permanent groups formed by savages
not quite so low, we begin to find traces of social structure.
Though industrial organization scarcely shows itself, except
in the different occupations of the sexes ; yet there is always
more or less of governmental organization. While all the
men are warriors and hunters, only a part of them are in-
cluded in the council of chiefs ; and in this council of chiefs
some one has commonly supreme authority. There is thus
a certain distinction of classes and powers ; and through
this slight specialization of functions, is effected a rude co-
operation among the increasing mass of individuals, when-
ever the society has to act in its corporate capacity. Be-
yond this analogy in the slight extent to which organizar
tion is carried, there is analogy in the indefiniteness of the
organization. In the Hydra, the respective parts of the
creature's substance have many functions in common.
They are all contractile ; omitting the tentacles, the whole
of the external surface can give origin to young hydros /
and when turned inside out, stomach performs the duties
of skin, and skin the duties of stomach. In aboriginal so-
cieties such differentiations as exist are similarly imperfect.
Notwithstanding distinctions of rank, all persons maintain
themselves by their own exertions. Not only do the head
men of the tribe, in common with the rest, build their own
huts, make their own weapons, kill their own food ; but
the chief does the like. Moreover, in the rudest of these
tribes, such governmental organization as exists is very in-
constant. It is frequently changed by violence or treach-
ery, and the function of ruling assumed by other members
of the community. Thus between the rudest societies and
Borne of the lowest forms of animal life there is analogy
alike in the slight extent to which organization is carried,

PARALLEL PROCESSES OF MULTIPLICATION. 389

m the indefiniteness of this organization, and in its want of
fixity.

A further complication of the analogy is at hand.
From the aggregation of units into organized groups, we
pass to the multiplication of such groups, and their coales-
cence into compound groups. The Hydra, when it has
reached a certain bulk, puts forth from its surface a tud,
which, growing and gradually assuming the form of the
parent, finally becomes detached ; and by this process of
gemmation, the creature peoples the adjacent water with
others like itself. A parallel process is seen in the multipli-
cation of those lowly-organized tribes above described.
One of them having increased to a size that is either too
great for co-ordination under so rude a structure, or else
that is greater than the surrounding country can supply
with game and other wild food, there arises a tendency to
divide ; and as in such communities there are ever occur-
ring quarrels, jealousies, and other causes of division, there
soon comes an occasion on which a part of the tribe sepa-
rates under the leadership of some subordinate chief, and
migrates. This process being from time to time repeated,
an extensive region is at length occupied with numerous
separate tribes descended from a common ancestry. The
analogy by no means ends here. Though in the common
Hydra, the young ones that bud out from the parent soon
become detached and independent ; yet throughout the
rest of the class Hydrozoa, to which this creature belongs,
the like does not generally happen. The successive indi-
viduals thus developed continue attached ; give origin to
other such individuals which also continue attached ; and
so there results a compound animal. As in the Hydra
itself, we find an aggregation of units which, considered
separately, are akin to the lowest Protozoa ; so here, in a
Zoophyte^ we find an aggregation of such aggregations.
The like is also seen throughout the extensive family of

390 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

Polyzoa or Molluscoida. The Ascidian Mollusks, too, in
their many varied forms, show us the same thing : exhibit-
ing, at the same time, various degrees of union subsisting
among the component individuals. For while in the Salpaz
the component individuals adhere so slightly that a blow on
the vessel of water in which they are floating will separate
them ; in the JBotryttidce there exists a vascular connexion
between them, and a common circulation.

Now in these various forms and degrees of aggregation,
may we not see paralleled the union of groups of connate
tribes into nations ? Though in regions where circum-
stances permit, the separate tribes descended from some
original tribe, migrate in all directions, and become far re-
moved and quite separate ; yet, in other cases, where the
territory presents barriers to distant migration, this does
not happen : the small kindred communities are held in
closer contact, and eventually become more or less united
into a nation. The contrast between the tribes of Ameri-
can Indians and the Scottish clans, illustrates this. And a
glance at our own early history, or the early histories of
continental nations, shows this fusion of small simple com-
munities taking place in various ways and to various extents.
As says M. Guizot, in his history of " The Origin of Rep-
resentative Government," —

" By degrees, in the midst of the chaos of the rising society,
small aggregations are formed which feel the want of alliance and
union with each other. . . . Soon inequality of strength is
displayed among neighbouring aggregations. The strong tend to
subjugate the weak, and usurp at first the rights of taxation and
military service. Thus political authority leaves the aggregations
which first instituted it, to take a wider range."

That is to say, the small tribes, clans, or feudal unions,
sprung mostly from a common stock, and long held in con-
tact as occupants of adjacent lands, gradually get united in
other ways than by mere adhesion of race and proximity.

SIMILARITY OF GROUPINGS. 391

A further series of changes begins now to take place ; to
which, as before, we shall find analogies in individual or-
ganisms. Returning again to the Hydrozoa, we observe
that in the simplest of the compound forms, the connected
individuals developed from a common stock, are alike in
structure, and perform like functions : with the exception,
indeed, that here and there a bud, instead of developing
into a stomach, mouth, and tentacles, becomes an egg-sac.
But with the oceanic Hydrozoa, this is by no means the
case. In the Calycophoridce, some of the polypes growing
from the common germ, become developed and modified
into large, long, sack-like bodies, which by their rhythmi-
cal contractions move through the water, dragging the
community of polypes after them. In the Physophoridai,
a variety of organs similarly arise by transformation of the
budding polypes ; so that in creatures like the Physalia,
commonly known as the " Portuguese Man-of-war," instead
of that tree-like group of similar individuals forming the
original type of the class, we have a complex mass of unlike
parts fulfilling unlike duties. As an individual Hydra may
be regarded as a group of Protozoa, which have become
partially metamorphosed into different organs ; so a Phy-
salia is, morphologically considered, a group of Hydras, of
which the individuals have been variously transformed to
fit them for various functions.

This differentiation upon differentiation, is just what
takes place in the evolution of a civilized society. We ob-
served how, in the small communities first formed, there
arises a certain simple political organization — there is a
partial separation of classes having different duties. And
now we have to observe how, in a nation formed by the
fusion of such small communities, the several sections, at
first alike in structures and modes of activity, gradually
become unlike in both — gradually become mutually-de-
pendent parts, diverse in their natures and functions.

892 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

The doctrine of the progressive division of labour, td
which we are here introduced, is familiar to all readers.
And further, the analogy between the economical division
of labour and the " physiological division of labour," is so
striking, as long since to have drawn the attention of sci-
entific naturalists : so striking, indeed, that the expression
" physiological division of labour," has been suggested by
it. It is not needful, therefore, that we should treat this
part of our subject in great detail. We shall content our-
selves with noting a few general and significant facts, not
manifest on a first inspection.

Throughout the whole animal kingdom, from the Coe-
lenterata upwards, the first stage of evolution is the same.
Equally in the germ of a polype and in the human ovum,
the aggregated mass of cells out of which the creature is
to arise, gives origin to a peripheral layer of cells, slightly
differing from the rest which they include ; and this layer
subsequently divides into two — the inner, lying in contact
with the included yelk, being called the mucous layer, and
the outer, exposed to surrounding agencies, being called
the serous layer : or, in the terms used by Prof. Huxley, in
describing the development of the Hydrozoa — the endo-
derm and ectoderm. This primary division marks out a
fundamental contrast of parts in the future organism.
From the mucous layer, or endoderm, is developed the
apparatus of nutrition ; while from the serous layer, or ec-
toderm, is developed the apparatus of external action.
Out of the one arise the organs by which food is prepared
and absorbed, oxygen imbibed, and blood purified ; while
out of the other arise the nervous, muscular, and osseous
systems, by whose combined actions the movements of the
body as a whole are effected. Though this is not a rigor-
ously-correct distinction, seeing that some organs involve
both of these primitive membranes, yet high authorities
agree in stating it as a broad general distinction-

ITS PRIMARY DIFFERENTIATIONS. 393

Well, in the evolution of a society, we see a primary
differentiation of analogous kind ; which similarly underlies
the whole future structure. As already pointed out, the
only manifest contrast of parts in primitive societies, is that
between the governing and the governed. In the least or-
ganized tribes, the council of chiefs may be a body of men
distinguished simply by greater courage or experience. In
more organized tribes, the chief-class is definitely separated
from the lower class, and often regarded as different in na-
ture— sometimes as god-descended. And later, we find
these two becoming respectively freemen and slaves, or
nobles and serfs. A glance at their respective functions,
makes it obvious that the great divisions thus early formed,
stand to each other in a relation similar to that in which
the primary divisions of the embryo stand to each other.
For, from its first appearance, the class of chiefs is that by
which the external acts of the society are controlled : alike
in war, in negotiation, and in migration. Afterwards,
while the upper class grows distinct from the lower, and at
the same time becomes more and more exclusively regula-
tive and defensive in its functions, alike in the persons of
kings and subordinate rulers, priests, and military leaders ;
the inferior class becomes more and more exclusively occu-
pied in providing the necessaries of life for the community
at large. From the soil, with which it comes in most di-
rect contact, the mass of the people takes up and prepares
for use, the food and such rude articles of manufacture as
are known ; while the overlying mass of superior men,
maintained by the working population, deals with circum-
stances external to the community^ — circumstances with
which, by position, it is more immediately concerned.
Ceasing by-and-by to have any knowledge of, or power
over, the concerns of the society as a whole, the serf-class
becomes devoted to the processes of alimentation ; while
the noble class, ceasing to take any part in the prooesses of

394 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

alimentation, becomes devoted to the co-ordinated move*
ments of the entire body politic.

Equally remarkable is a further analogy of like kind.
After the mucous and serous layers of the embryo have
separated, there presently arises between the two, a third,
known, to physiologists as the vascular layer — a layer out
of which are developed the chief blood-vessels. The mu-
cous layer absorbs nutriment from the mass of yelk it en-
closes ; this nutriment has to be transferred to the overly-
ing serous layer, out of which the nervo-muscular system
is being developed ; and between the two arises a vascular
system by which the transfer is effected — a system of ves-
sels which continues ever after to be the transferrer of nu-
triment from the places where it is absorbed and prepared,
to the places where it is needed for growth and repair.
Well, may we not trace a parallel step in social progress ?

Between the governing and the governed, there at first
exists no intermediate class ; and even in some societies
that have reached considerable sizes, there are scarcely any
but the nobles and their kindred on the one hand, and the
serfs on the other : the social structure being such, that the
transfer of commodities takes place directly from slaves to
their masters. But in societies of a higher type, there
grows up between these two primitive classes, another —
the trading or middle class. Equally, at first as now, we
may see that, speaking generally, this middle class is the
analogue of the middle layer in the embryo. For all tra<
ders are essentially distributors. Whether they be whole-
sale dealers, who collect into large masses the commodities
of various producers ; or whether they be retailers, who
divide out to those who want them, the masses of com-
modities thus collected together ; all mercantile men are
agents of transfer from the places where things are pro-
duced to the places where they are consumed. Thus the
distributing apparatus of a society, answers to the distribu

ANALOGOUS DISTRIBUTION OF MECHANISMS. 395

ting apparatus of a living body ; not only in its functions,
but in its intermediate origin and subsequent position, and
in the time of its appearance.

Without enumerating the minor differentiations which
these three great classes afterwards undergo, we will
merely note that throughout, they follow the same general
law with the differentiations of an individual organism. In
a society, as in a rudimentary animal, we have seen that the
most general and broadly contrasted divisions are the first
to make their appearance ; and of the subdivisions it con-
tinues true in both cases, that they arise in the order of de-
creasing generality.

Let us observe next, that in the one case as in the oth-
er, the specializations are at first very incomplete ; and be-
come more complete as organization progresses. We saw
that in primitive tribes, as in the simplest animals, there
remains much community of function between the parts
that are nominally different — that, for instance, the class of
chiefs long remain industrially the same as the inferior
class ; just as in a Hydra, the property of contractility is
possessed by the units of the endoderm as well as by those
of the ectoderm. We noted also how, as the society ad-
vanced, the two great primitive classes partook less and
less of each other's functions. And we have here to re-
mark, that all subsequent specializations are at first vague,
and gradually become distinct. " In the infancy of socie-
ty," says M. Guizot, " everything is confused and uncer-
tain ; there is as yet no fixed and precise line of demarca-
tion between the different powers in a state." " Origi-
nally kings lived like other landowners, on the incomes de-
rived from their own private estates." Nobles were petty
kings ; and kings only the most powerful nobles. Bishops
were feudal lords and military leaders. The right of coin-
ing money was possessed by powerful subjects, and by the
Church, as well as by the king. Every leading man exer-

396 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

cised alike the functions of landowner, farmer, soldier,
statesman, judge. Retainers were now soldiers, and now
labourers, as the day required. But by degrees the
Church has lost all civil jurisdiction ; the State has exer-
cised less and less control over religious teaching ; the mil-
itary class has grown a distinct one ; handicrafts have con-
centrated in towns ; and the spinning-wheels of scattered
farmhouses, have disappeared before the machinery of man-
ufacturing districts. ISTot only is all progress from the ho-
mogeneous to the heterogeneous ; but at the same time it
is from the indefinite to the definite.

Another fact which should not be passed over, is that in
the evolution of a large society out of an aggregation of small
ones, there is a gradual obliteration of the original lines of
separation — a change to which, also, we may see analogies
in living bodies. Throughout the sub-kingdom Annulosa,
this is clearly and variously illustrated. Among the lower
types of this sub-kingdom, the body consists of numerous
segments that are alike in nearly every particular. Each
has its external ring ; its pair of legs, if the creature has
legs ; its equal portion of intestines, or else its separate
stomach ; its equal portion of the great blood-vessel, or, in
some cases, its separate heart ; its equal portion of the ner-
vous cord, and, perhaps, its separate pair of ganglia. But
in the highest types, as in the large Crustacea, many of
the segments are completely fused together ; and the internal
organs are no longer uniformly repeated in all the segments.
Now the segments of which nations at first consist, lose their
separate external and internal structures in a similar manner.
In feudal times, the minor communities governed by feudal
lords, were severally organized in the same rude way ; and
were held together only by the fealty of their respective
rulers to some suzerain. But along with the growth of a
central power, the demarcations of these local communities
disappeared ; and their separate organizations merged into

COALESCENCE OF PAKTS. 397

the general organization. The like is seen on a larger scale
in the fusion of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland ; and,
on the Continent, in the coalescence of provinces into king-
doms. Even in the disappearance of law-made divisions,
the process is analogous. Among the Anglo-Saxons, Eng-
land was divided into tithings, hundreds, and counties :
there were county courts, courts of hundred, and courts oi
tithing. The courts of tithing disappeared first ; then the
courts of hundred, which have, however, left traces ; while
the county-jurisdiction still exists.

But chiefly it is to be noted, that there eventually grows
up an organization which has no reference to these original
divisions, but traverses them in various directions, as is the
case in creatures belonging to the sub-kingdom just named ;
and, further, that in both cases it is the sustaining organiza-
tion which thus traverses old boundaries, while in both
cases it is the governmental, or co-ordinating organization
in which the original boundaries continue traceable. Thus,
in the highest Annulosa, the exo-skeleton and the muscu-
lar system, never lose all traces of their primitive segmen-
tation ; but throughout a great part of the body, the con-
tained viscera do not in the least conform to the external
divisions. Similarly, with a nation, we see that while, for
governmental purposes, such divisions as counties and par-
ishes still exist, the structure developed for carrying on the
nutrition of society, wholly ignores these boundaries : our
great cotton-manufacture spreads out of Lancashire into
North Derbyshire ; Leicestershire and Nottinghamshire
have long divided the stocking-trade between them ; one
great centre for the production of iron and iron-goods, in-
cludes parts of Warwickshire, Staffordshire, Worcestershire ;
and those various specializations of agriculture which have
made different parts of England noted for different pro-
ducts, show no more respect to county-boundaries than
do our growing towns to the boundaries of parishes.

398 THE SOCIAL OEGANI8M.

If, after contemplating these analogies of structure, W6
inquire whether there are any such analogies between the
processes of organic change, the answer is — yes. The
causes which lead to increase of bulk in any part of the
body politic, are of like nature with those which lead to
increase of bulk in any part of an individual body. In
both cases the antecedent is greater functional activity, con-
sequent on greater demand. Each limb, viscus, gland, or
other member of an animal, is developed by exercise — by
actively discharging the duties which the body at large re-
quires of it ; and similarly, any class of labourers or arti-
sans, any manufacturing centre, or any official agency, begins
to enlarge when the community devolves on it an increase
of work. In each case, too, growth has its conditions and
its limits. That any organ in a living being may grow
by exercise, there needs a due supply of blood : all ac-
tion implies waste ; blood brings the materials for re-
pair ; and before there can be growth, the quantity of
blood supplied must be more than that requisite for re-
pair.

So is it in a society. If to some district which elabor-
ates for the community particular commodities — say the
woollens of Yorkshire — there comes an augmented demand ;
and if, in fulfilment of this demand, a certain expenditure
and wear of the manufacturing organization are incurred ;
and if, in payment for the extra supply of woollens sent
away, there comes back only such quantity of commodities
as replaces the expenditure, and makes good the waste of
life and machinery ; there can clearly be no growth. That
there may be growth, the commodities obtained in return
must be more than sufficient for these ends ; and just in
proportion as the surplus is great will the growth be rapid.
Whence it is manifest that what in commercial affairs we
call profit, answers to the excess of nutrition over waste in
a living body. Moreover, in both cases, when the func

PARALLEL CONDITIONS OF NUTRITION. 399

tional activity is high and the nutrition defective, there re-
sults not growth but decay. If in an animal, any organ is
worked so hard that the channels which bring blood cannot
furnish enough for repair, the organ dwindles ; and if in the
body politic, some part has been stimulated into great pro-
ductivity, and cannot afterwards get paid for all its produce,
certain of its members become bankrupt, and it decreases
in size.

One more parallelism to be here noted, is, that the dif-
ferent parts of the social organism, like the different parts
of an individual organism, compete for nutriment ; and
severally obtain more or less of it according as they are
discharging more or less duty. If a man's brain be over-
excited, it will abstract blood from his viscera and stop
digestion ; or digestion actively going on, will so affect tne
circulation through the brain as to cause drowsiness ; or
great muscular exertion will determine such a quantity of
blood to the limbs, as to arrest digestion or cerebral action,
as the case may be. So, likewise, in a society, it frequent-
ly happens that great activity in some one direction, causes
partial arrests of activity elsewhere, by abstracting capital,
that is commodities : as instance the way in which the sud-
den development of our railway-system hampered commer-
cial operations ; or the way in which the raising of a large
military force temporarily stops the growth of leading in-
dustries.

The last few paragraphs introduce the next division of
our subject. Almost unawares we have come upon the
analogy which exists between the blood of a living body,
and the circulating mass of commodities in the body politic.
We have now to trace out this analogy from its simplest to
its most complex manifestations.

In the lowest animals there exists no blood properly so
called. Through the small aggregation of cells which make

400 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM

up a Hydra^ permeate the juices absorbed from the food
There is no apparatus for elaborating a concentrated and
purified nutriment, and distributing it among the compo-
nent units ; but these component units directly imbibe the
unprepared nutriment, either from the digestive cavity or
from each other. May we not say that this is what takes
place in an aboriginal tribe ? All its members severally
obtain for themselves the necessaries of life in their crude
states ; and severally prepare them for their own uses as
well as they can. When there arises a decided differentia-
tion between the governing and the governed, some
amount of transfer begins between those inferior indi-
viduals, who, as workers, come directly in contact with the
products of the earth, and those superior ones who exer-
cise the higher functions — a transfer parallel to that which
accompanies the differentiation of the ectoderm from the
endoderm. In the one case, as in the other, however, it
is a transfer of products that are little if at all prepared ;
and takes place directly from the unit which obtains to
the unit which consumes, without entering into any general
current.

Passing to larger organisms — individual and social — we
find the first advance upon this arrangement. Where, as
among the compound Hydrozoa, there is an aggregation
of many such primitive groups as form Hydras ; or where,
as in a Medusa, one of these groups has become of great
size ; there exist rude channels running throughout the
substance of the body : not however, channels for the con-
veyance of prepared nutriment, but mere prolongations of
the digestive cavity, through which the crude chyle-aque-
ous fluid reaches the remoter parts, and is moved back-
wards and forwards by the creature's contractions. Do we
oot find in some of the more advanced primitive communi-
ties, an analogous condition ? When the men, partially or
fully united into one society, become numerous — when, as

ANALOGY OF THE LOWER CIRCULATIONS. 401

usually happens, they cover a surface of country not every-
where alike in its products — when, more especially, there
arise considerable classes that are not industrial; some pro-
cess of exchange and distribution inevitably arises. Trav-
ersing here and there the earth's surface, covered by that
vegetation on which human life depends, and in which, as
we say, the units of a society are imbedded, there are
formed indefinite paths, along which some of the necessa-
ries of life occasionally pass, to be bartered for others
which presently come back along the same channels. Note,
however, that at first little else but crude commodities are
thus transferred — fruits, fish, pigs or cattle, skins, etc. :
there are few, if any, manufactured products or articles
prepared for consumption. And note further, that such
distribution of these unprepared necessaries of life as takes
place, is but occasional — goes on with a certain slow, irregu-
lar rhythm.

Further progress in the elaboration and distribution of
nutriment, or of commodities, is a necessary accompani-
ment of further differentiation of functions in the indivi-
dual body or in the body politic. As fast as each organ of
a living animal becomes confined to a special action, it must
become dependent on the rest for all those materials which
its position and duty do not permit it to obtain for itself ;
in the same way that, as fast as each particular class of a
community becomes exclusively occupied in producing its
own commodity, it must become dependent on the rest foi
the other commodities it needs. And, simultaneously, a
more perfectly-elaborated blood will result from a highly-
specialized group of nutritive organs, severally adapted to
prepare its different elements ; in the same way that the
stream of commodities circulating throughout a society,
will be of superior quality in proportion to the greater di-
vision of labour among the workers. Observe, also, that
in either case the circulating mass of nutritive materials,

£02 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

besides coming gradually to consist of better ingredients,
also grows more complex. An increase in the number of
the unlike organs which add to the blood their waste mat-
ters, and demand from it the different materials they sev-
erally need, implies a blood more heterogeneous in compo-
sition— an d priori conclusion which, according to Dr.
Williams, is inductively confirmed by examination of the
blood throughout the various grades of the animal king-
dom. And similarly, it is manifest that as fast as the
division of labour among the classes of a community,
becomes greater, there must be an increasing heteroge-
neity in the currents of merchandise flowing throughout
that community;

The circulating mass of nutritive materials in individual
organisms and in social organisms, becoming alike better in
the quality of its ingredients and more heterogeneous in
composition, as the type of structure becomes higher;
eventually has added to it in both cases another element,
which is not itself nutritive, but facilitates the process of
nutrition. We refer, in the case of the individual organ-
ism, to the blood-discs ; and in the case of the social or-
ganism, to money. This analogy has been observed by
Liebig, who in his u Familiar Letters on Chemistry,"
says :

" Silver and gold have to perform in the organization of the
State, the same function as the blood corpuscles in the human
organization. As these round discs, without themselves taking an
immediate share in the nutritive process, are the medium, the
essential condition of the change of matter, of the production of
the heat, and of the force by which the temperature of the body
is kept up and the motions of the blood and all the juices are de-
termined, so has gold become the medium of all activity in the life
of the State."

And blood-corpuscles being like money in their func-
tions, and in the fact that they are not consumed in nutri-

ANALOGY BETWEEN THE CIRCULATIONS. 403

tion, he further points out, that the number of them which
in a considerable interval flows through the great centres,
is enormous when compared with their absolute number ;
just as the quantity of money which annually passes
through the great mercantile centres, is enormous when
compared with the total quantity of money in the kingdom.
Nor is this all. Liebig has omitted the significant circum-
stance, that only at a certain stage of organization does this
element of the circulation make its appearance. Through-
out extensive divisions of the lower animals, the blood con-
tains no corpuscles ; and in societies of low civilization,
there is no money.

Thus far, we have considered the analogy between the
blood in a living body and the consumable and circulating
commodities in the body politic. Let us now compare the
appliances by which they are respectively distributed. We
shall find in the development of these appliances, parallel-
isms not less remarkable than those above set forth. Al-
ready we have shown that, as classes, wholesale and retail
distributors discharge in a society, the office which the
vascular system discharges in an individual creature ; that
they come into existence later than the other two great
classes, as the vascular layer appears later than the mucous
and serous layers ; and that they occupy a like intermedi-
ate position. Here, however, it remains to be pointed out
that a complete conception of the circulating system in a
society, includes not only the active human agents who
propel the currents of commodities, and regulate their dis-
tribution ; but includes, also, the channels of communication.
It is the formation and arrangement of these, to which we
now direct attention.

Going back once more to those lower animals in which
there is found nothing but a partial diffusion, not of blood,
but only of crude nutritive fluids, it is to be remarked that
the channels through which the diffusion takes place, are

404 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

mere excavations through the half-organized substance of
the body : they have no lining membranes, but are mere
lacunae traversing a rude tissue. Now countries in which
civilization is but commencing, display a like condition :
there are no roads properly so called ; but the wilderness
of vegetal life covering the earth's surface, is pierced by
tracks, through which the distribution of crude commodi-
ties takes place. And while in both cases, the acts of dis-
tribution occur only at long intervals (the currents, after a
pause, now setting towards a general centre, and now
away from it), the transfer is in both cases slow and difficult.
But among other accompaniments of progress, common to
animals and societies, comes the formation of more definite
and complete channels of communication. Blood-vessels
acquire distinct walls ; roads are fenced and gravelled.
This advance is first seen in those roads or vessels that are
nearest to the chief centres of distribution ; while the peri-
pheral roads and peripheral vessels, long continue in their
primitive states. At a yet later stage of development,
where comparative finish of structure is found throughout
the system as well as near the chief centres, there remains
in both cases the difference, that the main channels are
comparatively broad and straight, while the subordinate
ones are narrow and tortuous in proportion to their re-
moteness.

Lastly, it is to be remarked that there ultimately arise
in the higher social organisms, as in the higher individual
organisms, main channels of distribution still more distin-
guished by their perfect structures, their comparative
straightness, and the absence of those small branches which
the minor channels perpetually give off. And in railways
we also see, for the first time in the social organism, a
specialization with respect to the directions of the currents
— a system of double channels conveying currents in oppo-
site directions, as do the arteries and veins of a well-devel-
oped animal.

DEVELOPMENT OF CIRCULATORY CHANNELS. 405

These parallelisms in the evolutions and structures of
tne circulating systems, introduce us to others in the kinda
and rates of the movements going on through them. In
the lowest societies, as in the lowest creatures, the distri-
bution of crude nutriment is by slow gurgitations and re-
gurgitations. In creatures that have rude vascular sys
terns, as in societies that are beginning to have roads and
some transfer of commodities along them, there is no regu-
lar circulation in definite courses ; but instead, periodical
changes of the currents — now towards this point, and now
towards that. Through each part of an inferior mollusk's
body, the blood flows for a while in one direction, then
stops, and flows in the opposite direction ; just as through a
rudely-organized society, the distribution of merchandise
is slowly carried on by great fairs, occurring in different
localities, to and from which the currents periodically set.
Only animals of tolerably complete organizations, like ad-
vanced communities, are permeated by constant currents
that are definitely directed. In living bodies, the local and
variable currents disappear when there grow up great
centres of circulation, generating more powerful currents,
by a rhythm which ends in a quick, regular pulsation.
And when in social bodies, there arise great centres of
commercial activity, producing and exchanging large quan-
tities of commodities, the rapid and continuous streams
drawn in and emitted by these centres, subdue all minor
and local circulations : the slow rhythm of fairs merges
into the faster one of weekly markets, and in the chief cen-
tres of distribution, weekly markets merge into daily mar-
kets ; while in place of the languid transfer from place to
place, taking place at first weekly, then twice or thrice a
week, we by-and-by get daily transfer, and finally transfer
many times a day — the original sluggish, irregular rhythm,
becomes a rapid, equable pulse.

Mark, too, that in both cases the increased activity, like

4:06 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

the greater perfection of structure, is much less conspicu
ous at the periphery of the vascular system. On main
lines of railway, we have, perhaps, a score trains in each
direction daily, going at from thirty to fifty miles an hour ;
as, through the great arteries, the blood rushes rapidly in
successive gushes. Along high roads, there move vehicles
conveying men and commodities with much less, though
still considerable, speed, and with a much less decided
rhythm ; as, in the smaller arteries, the speed of the blood
is greatly diminished, and the pulse less conspicuous. In
parish-roads, narrow, less complete, and more tortuous, the
rate of movement is further decreased and the rhythm
scarcely traceable ; as in the ultimate arteries. In those
still more imperfect by-roads which lead from these parish-
roads to scattered farmhouses and cottages, the motion is
yet slower and very irregular ; just as we find it in the
capillaries. While along the field-roads, which, in their
unformed, unfenced state, are typical of lacunce, the move
ment is the slowest, the most irregular, and the most infre-
quent ; as it is, not only in the primitive lacunce of animals,
and societies, but as it is also in those lacunce in which the
vascular system ends among extensive families of inferior
creatures.

Thus, then, we find between the distributing systems
of living bodies and the distributing systems of bodies pol-
itic, wonderfully close parallelisms. In the lowest forms of
individual and social organisms, there exist neither prepar-
ed nutritive matters nor distributing appliances ; and in
both, these, arising as necessary accompaniments of the
differentiation of parts, approach perfection as this differen-
tiation approaches completeness. In animals, as in socie-
ties, the distributing agencies begin to show themselves at
the same relative periods, and in the same relative positions.
In the one, as in the other, the nutritive materials circula-
ted, are at first crude and simple, gradually become bettei

ITS ANALOGIES WITH THE NEKVOUS SYSTEM. 407

elaborated and more heterogeneous, and have eventually
added to them a new element facilitating the nutritive pro-
cesses. The channels of communication pass through similar
phases of development, which bring them to analogous
forms. And the directions, rhythms, and rates of cir-
culation, progress by like steps to like final conditions.

We come at length to the nervous system. Having no-
ticed the primary differentiation of societies into the gov-
erning and governed classes, and observed its analogy to
the differentiation of the two primary tissues which respec-
tively develope into organs of external action and organs
of alimentation ; having noticed some of the leading anal-
ogies between the development of industrial arrangements
and that of the alimentary apparatus ; and having, above,
more fully traced the analogies between the distributing
systems, social and individual ; we have now to compare
the appliances by which a society, as a whole, is regulated,
with those by which the movements of an individual crea-
ture are regulated. We shall find here, parallelisms equally
striking with those already detailed.

The class out of which governmental organization ori-
ginates, is, as we have said, analogous in its relations to the
ectoderm of the lowest animals and of embryonic forms.
And as this primitive membrane, out of which the nervo-
muscular system is evolved, must, even in the first stage of
its differentiation, be slightly distinguished from the rest
by that greater impressibility and contractility characteriz-
ing the organs to which it gives rise ; so, in that superior
class which is eventually transformed into the directo-exe-
cutive system of a society (its legislative and defensive ap-
pliances), does there exist in the beginning, a larger en-
dowment of the capacities required for these higher social
functions. Always, in rude assemblages of men, the strong-
est, most courageous, and most sagacious, become rulers
19

408 THE SOCIAL OEGANISM.

and leaders ; and, in a tribe of some standing, this results
in the establishment of a dominant class, characterized on
the average by those mental and bodily qualities which fit
them for deliberation and vigorous combined action. Thus
that greater impressibility and contractility, which in the
rudest animal types characterize the units of the ectoderm,
characterize also the units of the primitive social ectoderm ;
since impressibility and contractility are the respective roots
of intelligence and strength.

Again, in the unmodified ectoderm, as we see it in the
Hydra, the units are all endowed both with impressibility
and contractility ; but as we ascend to higher types of or-
ganization, the ectoderm differentiates into classes of units
which divide those two functions between them : some, be-
coming exclusively impressible, cease to be contractile ;
while some, becoming exclusively contractile, cease to be
impressible. Similarly with societies. In an aboriginal
tribe, the directive and executive functions are diffused in
a mingled form throughout the whole governing class.
Each minor chief commands those under him, and if need
be, himself coerces them into obedience. The council of
chiefs itself carries out on the battle-field its own decisions.
The head chief not only makes laws, but administers justice
with his own hands. In larger and more settled communi-
ties, however, the directive and executive agencies begin
to grow distinct from each other. As fast as his duties
accumulate, the head chief or king confines himself more
and more to directing public affairs, and leaves the execu
tion of his will to others : he deputes others to enforce
submission, to inflict punishments, or to carry out minor
acts of offence and defence ; and only on occasions when,
perhaps, the safety of the society and his own supremacy
are at stake, does he begin to act as well as direct. As
this differentiation establishes itself, the characteristics of
the ruler begin to change. No longer, as in an aboriginaJ

DIFFERENTIATION OF THE DIRECTIVE FUNCTIONS. 409

tribe, the strongest and most daring man, the tendency is
for him to become the man of greatest cunning, foresight,
and skill in the management of others ; for in societies that
have advanced beyond the first stage, it is chiefly such
qualities that insure success in gaining supreme power, and
holding it against internal and external enemies. Thus that
member of the governing; class who comes to be the chief
directing agent, and so plays the same part that a rudimen-
tary nervous centre does in an unfolding organism, is usu-
ally one endowed with some superiorities of nervous organ-
ization.

In those somewhat larger and more complex communi-
ties possessing, perhaps, a separate military class, a priest-
hood, and dispersed masses of population requiring local
control, there necessarily grow up subordinate governing
agents ; who as their duties accumulate, severally become
more directive and less executive in their characters.
And when, as commonly happens, the king begins to
collect round himself advisers who aid him by commun-
icating information, preparing subjects for his judgment,
and issuing his orders ; we may say that the form of
organization is comparable to one very general among
inferior types of animals, in which there exists a chief
ganglion with a few dispersed minor ganglia under its
control.

The analogies between the evolution of governmental
structures in societies, and the evolution of governmental
structures in living bodies, are, however, more strikingly
displayed during the formation of nations by the coales-
cence of small communities — a process already shown to
be, in several respects, parallel to the development of those
creatures that primarily consist of many like segments.
Among other points of community between the successive
rings which make up the body in the lower Articulata, is
the possession of similar pairs of ganglia. These pairs of

4:10 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

ganglia, though united together by nerves, are very incom-
pletely dependent on any general controlling power. Hence
it results that when the body is cut in two, the hinder part
continues to move forward under the propulsion of its nu-
merous legs ; and that when the chain of ganglia has been
divided without severing the body, the hind limbs may be
seen trying to propel the body in one direction, while the
fore limbs are trying to propel it in another. Among the
higher Articulata, however, a number of the anterior pairs
of ganglia, besides growing larger, unite in one mass ; and this
great cephalic ganglion, becoming the co-ordinator of all the
creature's movements, there no longer exists much local in
dependence.

Now may we not in the growth of a consolidated king-
dom out of petty sovereignties or baronies, observe analo-
gous changes ? Like the chiefs and primitive rulers above
described, feudal lords, exercising supreme power over their
respective groups of retainers, discharge functions analo-
gous to those of rudimentary nervous centres; and we
know that at first they, like their analogues, are distin-
guished by superiorities of directive and executive organiza-
tion. Among these local governing centres, there is, in
early feudal times, very little subordination. They are in
frequent antagonism ; they are individually restrained chief-
ly by the influence of large parties in their own class ; and
are but imperfectly and irregularly subject to that most
powerful member of their order who has gained the posi-
tion of head suzerain or king. As the growth and organi-
zation of the society progresses, these local directive cen-
tres fall more and more under the control of a chief direc-
tive centre. Closer commercial union between the several
segments, is accompanied by closer governmental union;
and these minor rulers end in being little more than agents
who administer, in their several localities, the laws made by
the supreme ruler : just as the local ganglia above described,

ANALOGUES OF THE NERVOUS CENTRES. 411

eventually become agents which enforce, in their respec-
tive segments, the orders of the cephalic ganglion.

The parallelism holds still farther. We remarked above,
when speaking of the rise of aboriginal kings, that in pro-
portion as their territories and duties increase, they are
obliged not only to perform their executive functions by
deputy, but also to gather round themselves advisers to aid
them in their directive functions ; and that thus, in place
of a solitary governing unit, there grows up a group of
governing units, comparable to a ganglion consisting of
many cells. Let us here add, that the advisers and chief
officers who thus form the rudiment of a ministry, tend
from the beginning to exercise a certain control over the
ruler. By the information they give and the opinions they
express, they sway his judgment and affect his commands.
To this extent he therefore becomes a channel through
which are communicated the directions originating with
them ; and in course of time, when the advice of ministers
becomes the acknowledged source of his actions, the king
assumes very much the character of an automatic centre,
reflecting the impressions made on him from without.

Beyond this complication of governmental structuie,
many societies do not progress ; but in some, a further de-
velopment takes place. Our own case best illustrates this
further development, and its further analogies. To kings
and their ministries have been added, in England, other
great directive centres, exercising a control which, at first
small, has been gradually becoming predominant : as with
the great governing ganglia that especially distinguish the
highest classes of living beings. Strange as the assertion
will be thought, our Houses of Parliament discharge in the
social economy, functions that are in sundry respects com-
parable to those discharged by the cerebral masses in a
vertebrate animal. As it is in the nature of a single gan
glion to be affected only by special stimuli from particular

£12 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

parts of the body ; so it is in the nature of a single ruler
to be swayed in his acts by exclusive personal or class in-
terests. As it is in the nature of an aggregation of ganglia,
connected with the primary one, to convey to it a greater
variety of influences from more numerous organs, and thus
to make its acts conform to more numerous requirements ;
so it is in the nature of a king surrounded by subsidiary
controlling powers, to adapt his rule to a greater number
of public exigencies. And as it is in the nature of those
great and latest-developed ganglia which distinguish the
higher animals, to interpret and combine the multiplied
and varied impressions conveyed to them from all parts of
the system, and to regulate the actions in such way as duly
to regard them all ; so it is in the nature of those great
and latest-developed legislative bodies which distinguish
the most advanced societies, to interpret and combine the
wishes and complaints of all classes and localities, and to
regulate public affairs as much as possible in harmony with
the general wants.

The cerebrum co-ordinates the countless heterogeneous
considerations which affect the present and future welfare
of the individual as a whole ; and the legislature co-ordi-
nates the countless heterogeneous considerations which af-
fect the immediate and remote welfare of the whole com-
munity. We may describe the office of the brain as that
of averaging the interests of life, physical, intellectual,
moral, social ; and a good brain is one in which the desires
answering to these respective interests are so balanced,
that the conduct they jointly dictate, sacrifices none of
them. Similarly, we may describe the office of a Parlia-
ment as that of averaging the interests of the various
classes in a community ; and a good Parliament is one iD
which the parties answering to these respective interests
are so balanced, that their united legislation concedes to
each class as much as consists with the claims of the rest

FUNCTIONS AND ANALOGUES OF THE CEREBRUM. 413

Besides being comparable in their duties, these great di-
rective centres, social and individual, are comparable in the
processes by which their duties are discharged.

It is now an acknowledged truth in psychology, that
the cerebrum is not occupied with direct impressions from
without, but with the ideas of such impressions : instead of
the actual sensations produced in the body, and directly
appreciated by the sensory ganglia or primitive nervous
centres, the cerebrum receives only the representations of
these sensations ; and its consciousness is called representa-
tive consciousness, to distinguish it from the original or
presentative consciousness. Is it not significant that we
have hit on the same word to distinguish the function of
our House of Commons ? We call it a representative body,
because the interests with which it deals — the pains and
pleasures about which it consults — are not directly pre-
sented to it, but represented to it by its various members ;
and a debate is a conflict of representations of the evils or
benefits likely to follow from a proposed course — a descrip-
tion which applies with equal truth to a debate in the indi-
vidual consciousness. In both cases, too, these great gov-
erning masses take no part in the executive functions. As,
after a conflict in the cerebrum, those desires which finally
predominate, act on the subjacent ganglia, and through
their instrumentality determine the bodily actions ; so the
parties which, after a parliamentary struggle, gain the vic-
tory, do not themselves carry out their wishes, but get
them carried out by the executive divisions of the Govern-
ment. The fulfilment of all legislative decisions still de-
volves on the original directive centres — the impulse pass-
ing from the Parliament to the Ministers, and from the
Ministers to the King, in whose name everything is done ;
iust as those smaller, first-developed ganglia, which in the
lowest vertebrata are the chief controlling agents, are still,
in the brains of the higher vertebrata, the agents through
which the dictates of the cerebrum are worked out.

414 THE SOCIAL OKGANISM

Moreover in both cases these original centres become
increasingly automatic. In the developed vertebrate ani-
mal, they have little function beyond that of conveying
impressions to, and executing the determinations of, the
larger centres. In our highly organized government, the
monarch has long been lapsing into a passive agent of Par»
liament ; and now, ministers are rapidly falling into the
same position.

Nay, between the two cases there is a parallelism, even
in respect of the exceptions to this automatic action. For
in the individual creature, it happens that under circum-
stances of sudden alarm, as from a loud sound close at
band, an unexpected object starting up in front, or a slip
from insecure footing, the danger is guarded against by
some quick involuntary jump, or adjustment of the limbs,
that takes place before there is time to consider the im-
pending evil, and take deliberate measures to avoid it : the
rationale of which is, that these violent impressions pro-
duced on the senses, are reflected from the sensory ganglia
to the spinal cord and muscles, without, as in ordinary
cases, first passing through the cerebrum. In like manner,
on national emergencies, calling for prompt action, the
King and Ministry, not having time to lay the matter be-
fore the great deliberative bodies, themselves issue com-
mands for the requisite movements or precautions : the
primitive, and now almost automatic, directive centres, ro-
sume for a moment their original uncontrolled power.
And then, strangest of all, observe that in either case there
is an afterprocess of approval or disapproval. The individ-
ual on recovering from his automatic start, at once contem-
plates the cause of his fright ; and, according to the case,
concludes that it was well he moved as he did, or con-
demns himself for his groundless alarm. In like manner,
the deliberative powers of the State, discuss, as soon as
may be, the unauthorized acts of the executive powers

TELEGRAPH- WIKES ANALOGOUS TO NERVES. 415

and, deciding that the reasons were or were not sufficient,
grant or withhold a bill of indemnity.*

Thus far in comparing the governmental organization
of the body politic with that of an individual body, we
have considered only the respective co-ordinating centres.
We have yet to consider the channels through which these
co-ordinating centres receive information and convey com-
mands. In the simplest societies, as in the simplest organ-
isms, there is no "internuncial apparatus," as Hunter styled
the nervous system. Consequently, impressions can be but
slowly propagated from unit to unit throughout the whole
mass. The same progress, however, which, in animal-or-
ganization, shows itself in the establishment of ganglia or
directive centres, shows itself also in the establishment of
nerve-threads, through which the ganglia receive and con-
vey impressions, and so control remote organs. And in so-
cieties the like eventually takes place.

After a long period during which the directive centres
communicate with various parts of the society through
other means, there at last comes into existence an " inter-
nuncial apparatus," analogous to that found in individual
bodies. The comparison of telegraph-wires to nerves, is
familiar to all. It applies, however, to an extent not com-
monly supposed. We do not refer to the near alliance be-
tween the subtle forces employed in the two cases ; though
it is now held that the nerve-force, if not literally electric,

* It may be well to warn the reader against an error fallen into by one
who criticised this essay on its first publication — the error of supposing that
the analogy here intended to be drawn, is a specific analogy between the
organization of society in England, and the human organization. As said
at the outset, no such specific analogy exists. The above parallel, is one
between the most-developed systems of governmental organization, indi-
vidual and social ; and the vertebrate type is instanced, merely as exhibit-
ing this most-developed system. If any specific comparison were made,
which it cannot rationally be, it would be to some much lower vertebrate
form than the human.

4:16 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.

is still a special form of electric action, related to the ordi*
nary form much as magnetism is. But we refer to the
structural arrangements of our telegraph-system. Thus,
throughout the vertebrate sub-kingdom, the great nerve-
bundles diverge from the vertebrate axis, side by side with
the great arteries ; and similarly, our groups of telegraph-
wires are carried along the sides of our railways. The
most striking parallelism, however, remains. Into each
great bundle of nerves, as it leaves the axis of the body
along with an artery, there enters a branch of the sympa-
thetic nerve ; which branch, accompanying the artery
throughout its ramifications, has the function of regulating
its diameter and otherwise controlling the flow of blood
through it according to the local requirements. Analo-
gously, in the group of telegraph-wires running alongside
each railway, there is one for the purpose of regulating the
traffic — for retarding or expediting the flow of passengers
and commodities, as the local conditions demand. Proba-
bly, when our now rudimentary telegraph-system is fully
developed, other analogies will be traceable.

Such, then, is a general outline of the evidence which
justifies, in detail, the comparison of societies to living or-
ganisms. That they gradually increase in mass ; that they
become little by little more complex ; that at the same
time their parts grow more mutually dependent ; and that
they continue to five and grow as wholes, while successive
generations of their units appear and disappear ; are broad
peculiarities which bodies politic display, in common with
all living bodies ; and in which they and living bodies differ
from everything else. And on carrying out the compari-
son in detail, we find that these major analogies involve
many minor analogies, far closer than might have been ex-
pected. To these we would gladly have added others. We
had hoped to say something respecting the different types
of social organization, and something also on social meta-
morphoses ; but we have reached our assigned limits.

XI.

USE AND BEAUTY

IN one of his essays, Emerson remarks, that what Nature
at one time provides for use, she afterwards turns to
ornament ; and he cites in illustration the structure of a
sea-shell, in which the parts that have for a while formed
the mouth are at the next season of growth left behind,
and become decorative nodes and spines.

It has often occurred to me that this same remark might
be extended to the progress of Humanity. Here, too, the
appliances of one era serve as embellishments to the next.
Equally in institutions, creeds, customs, and superstitions,
we may trace this evolution of beauty out of what was once
purely utilitarian.

The contrast between the feeling with which we regard
portions of the Earth's surface still left in their original
state, and the feeling with which the savage regarded them,
is an instance that naturally comes first in order of time.
If any one walking over Hampstead Heath, will note how
strongly its picturesqueness is brought out by contrast
with the surrounding cultivated fields and the masses of
houses lying in the distance ; and will further reflect that,
had this irregular gorse-covered surface extended on all
sides to the horizon, it would have looked dreary and
prosaic rather than pleasing ; he will see that to the primi-
tive man a country so clothed presented no beauty at all

418 tfSE AND BEAUTY.

To him it was merely a haunt of wild animals, and a ground
out of which roots might be dug. What have become for
us places of relaxation and enjoyment — places for afternoon
strolls and for gathering flowers — were his places for labour
and food, probably arousing in his mind none but utilitarian
associations.

Ruined castles afford an obvious instance of this meta-
morphosis of the useful into the beautiful. To feudal
barons and their retainers, security was the chief, if not the
only end, sought in choosing the sites and styles of their
strongholds. Probably they aimed as little at the pic-
turesque as do the builders of cheap brick houses in our
modern towns. Yet what where erected for shelter and
safety, and what in those early days fulfilled an important
function in the social economy, have now assumed a purely
ornamental character. They serve as scenes for picnics ;
pictures of them decorate our drawing-rooms ; and each
supplies its surrounding districts with legends for Christ-
mas Eve.

Following out the train of thought suggested by this
last illustration, we may see that not only do the material
exuviae of past social states become the ornaments of our
landscapes ; but that past habits, manners, and arrange-
ments, serve as ornamental elements in our literature.
The tyrannies that, to the serfs who bore them, were harsh
and dreary facts ; the feuds which, to those who took part
in them, were very practical life-and-death affairs ; the
mailed, moated, sentinelled security that was irksome to
the nobles who needed it ; the imprisonments, and tor-
tures, and escapes, which were stern and quite prosaic
realities to all concerned in them ; have become to us
material for romantic tales — material which when woven
into Ivanhoes and Marmions, serves for amusement in leis-
ure hours, and become poetical by contrast with our daily
lives.

THE USEFUL TRANSFORMED INTO THE ORNAMENTAL. 419

Thus, also, is it with extinct creeds. Stonebenge, which
in the hands of the Druids had a governmental influence
over men, is in our day a place for antiquarian excursions ;
and its attendant priests are worked up into an opera.
Greek sculptures, preserved for their beauty in our galleries
of art, and copied for the decoration of pleasure grounds
and entrance halls, once lived in men's minds as gods de-
manding obedience ; as did also the grotesque idols that
now amuse the visitors to our museums.

Equally marked is this change of function in the case of
minor superstitions. The fairy lore, which in past times
was matter of grave belief, and held sway over people's
conduct, has since been transformed into ornament for
A Midsummer NighVs Dream, The Tempest, The Fairy
Queen, and endless small tales and poems ; and still affords
subjects for children's story-books, themes for ballets, and
plots for Planche's burlesques. Gnomes, and genii, and
afrits, losing all their terrors, give piquancy to the wood-
cuts in our illustrated edition of the Arabian Nights.
While ghost-stories, and tales of magic and witchcraft, af-
ter serving to amuse boys and girls in their leisure hours,
become matter for jocose allusions that enliven tea-table
conversation.

Even our serious literature and our speeches are very
generally relieved by ornaments drawn from such sources.
A Greek myth is often used as a parallel by which to vary
the monotony of some grave argument. The lecturer
breaks the dead level of his practical discourse by illustra-
tions drawn from bygone customs, events, or beliefs. And
metaphors, similarly derived, give brilliancy to political
orations, and to Times leading articles.

Indeed, on careful inquiry, I think it will be found that
we turn to purposes of beauty most bygone phenomena
that are at all conspincous. The busts of great men in our
libraries, and their tombs in our churches ; the once useful

420 USE AND BEAUTY.

but now purely ornamental heraldic symbols ; the monks,
nuns, and convents, that give interest to a certain class of
novels ; the bronze mediaeval soldiers used for embellishing
drawing-Tooms ; the gilt Apollos that recline on time-
pieces ; the narratives that serve as plots for our great
dramas ; and the events that afford subjects for historical
pictures ; — these and such like illustrations of the metamor-
phosis of the useful into the beautiful, are so numerous as
to suggest that, did we search diligently enough, we should
find that in some place, or under some circumstances,
nearly every notable product of the past has assumed a de-
corative character.

And here the mention of historical pictures reminds me
that an inference may be drawn from all this, bearing
directly on the practice of art. It has of late years been a
frequent criticism upon our historical painters, that they
err in choosing their subjects from the past ; and that,
would they found a genuine and vital school, they must
render on canvas the life and deeds and aims of our own
time. If, however, there be any significance in the fore-
going facts, it seems doubtful whether this criticism is a
just one. For if it be the process of things, that what has
performed some practical function in society during one
era, becomes available for ornament in a subsequent one ;
it almost follows that, conversely, whatever is perform-
ing some practical function now, or has very recently
performed one, does not possess the ornamental charac-
ter ; and is, consequently, inapplicable to any purpose of
which beauty is the aim, or of which it is a needful in-
gredient.

Still more reasonable will this conclusion appear, when
we consider the nature of this process by which the useful
is changed into the ornamental. An essential pre-requisite
to all beauty is contrast. To obtain artistic effect, light
must be put in juxtaposition with shade, bright colours

CONTRAST A PRE-REQDISITE TO BEAUTY. 421

with dull colours, a fretted surface with a plain one. Fortt
passages in music must have piano passages to relieve
them ; concerted pieces need interspersing with solos ; and
rich chords must not be continuously repeated. In the
drama we demand contrast of characters, of scenes, of sen-
timent, of style. In prose composition an eloquent passage
should have a comparatively plain setting ; and in poems
great effect is obtained by occasional change of versifica-
tion. This general principle will, I think, explain the trans-
formation of the bygone useful into the present beautiful.
It is by virtue of their contrast with our present modes of
life, that past modes of life look interesting and romantic.
Just as a picnic, which is a temporary return to an aborigi-
nal condition, derives, from its unfamiliarity, a certain poe-
try which it would not have were it habitual ; so, every-
thing ancient gains, from its relative novelty to us, an
element of interest. Gradually as, by the growth of soci-
ety, we leave behind the customs, manners, arrangements,
and all the products, material and mental, of a bygone age
— gradually as we recede from the&o so far that there
arises a conspicuous difference between them and those we
are familiar with ; so gradually do they begin to assume to
us a poetical aspect, and become applicable for ornament.
And hence it follows that things and events which are close
to us, and which are accompanied by associations of ideas
not markedly contrasted with our ordinary associations
are relatively inappropriate for purposes of art.

XII.
THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES

~T~Y"7~HEN lately looking through the gallery of the Old
V V Water-Colour Society, I was struck with the incon-
gruity produced by putting regular architecture into irregu-
lar scenery. In one case, where the artist had introduced a
perfectly symmetrical Grecian edifice into a mountainous
and somewhat wild landscape, the discordant effect was
particularly marked. "How very unpicturesque," said a
lady to her friend, as they passed ; showing that I was not
alone in my opinion. Her phrase, however, set me specu-
lating. "Why unpicturesque? Picturesque means, like a
picture — like what men choose for pictures. Why then
should this be not fit for a picture ?

Thinking the matter over, it seemed to me that the
artist had sinned against that unity which is essential to a
good picture. When the other constituents of a landscape
have irregular forms, any artificial structure introduced
must have an irregular form, that it may seem part of the
landscape. The same general character must pervade it
and surrounding objects ; otherwise it, and the scene amid
which it stands, become not one thing but two things ; and
we say it looks out of place. Or, speaking psychologically,
the associated ideas called up by a building with its wings,
windows, and all its parts symmetrically disposed, differ
widely from the ideas associated with an entirely irregular

DERIVATION OF GREEK AND ROMAN STYLES. 423

landscape ; and the one set of ideas tends to banish the
other.

Pursuing the train of thought, sundry illustrative facts
came to ray mind. I remembered that a castle, which is
more irregular in outline than any other kind of building,
pleases us most when seated amid crags and precipices ;
while a castle on a plain seems an incongruity. The partly-
regular and partly-irregular forms of our old farm-houses,
and our gabled gothic manors and abbeys, appear quite in
harmony with an undulating, wooded country. In towns
we prefer symmetrical architecture ; and in towns it pro-
duces in us no feeling of incongruity, because all surround-
ing things — men, horses, vehicles — are symmetrical also.

And here I was reminded of a notion that has frequent-
ly recurred to me ; namely, that there is some relationship
between the several kinds of architecture and the several
classes of natural objects. Buildings in the Greek and
Roman styles seem, in virtue of their symmetry, to take
their type from animal life. In the partly -irregular Gothic,
ideas derived from the vegetable world appear to predomi-
nate. And wholly irregular buildings, such as castles, may
be considered as having inorganic forms for their basis.

Whimsical as this speculation looks at first sight, it is
countenanced by numerous facts. The connexion between
symmetrical architecture and animal forms, may be inferred
from the hind of symmetry we expect, and are satisfied
with, in regular buildings. Thus in a Greek temple we re-
quire that the front shall be symmetrical in itself, and that
the two flanks shall be alike ; but we do not look for uni-
formity between the flanks and the front, nor between the
front and the back. The identity of this symmetry with
that found in animals is obvious. Again, why is it that a
building making any pretension to symmetry displeases us
if not quite symmetrical ? Probably the reply will be—
Because we see that the designer's idea is not fully carried

424: THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES.

out ; and that hence our love of completeness is offended.
But then there come the further questions — How do we
know that the architect's conception was symmetrical?
Whence comes this notion of symmetry which we have,
and which we attribute to him ? Unless we fall back upon
the old doctrine of innate ideas, we must admit that the
idea of bilateral symmetry is derived from without ; and
to admit this is to admit that it is derived from the higher
animals.

That there is some relationship between Gothic archi-
tecture and vegetable forms is a position generally admit-
ted. The often-remarked analogy between a groined nave
and an avenue of trees with interlacing branches, shows
that the fact has forced itself on men's observation. It is
not only in this analogy, however, that the kinship is seen.
It is seen still better in the essential characteristic of Goth-
ic ; namely, what is termed its aspiring tendency. That
predominance of vertical lines which so strongly distin-
guishes Gothic from other styles, is the most marked pecu-
liarity of trees, when compared with animals or rocks. To
persons of active imagination, a tall Gothic tower, with its
elongated apertures and clusters of thin projections run-
ning from bottom to top, suggests a vague notion of growth.

Of the alleged connexion between inorganic forms and
the wholly irregular and the castellated styles of building,
we have, I think, some proof in the fact that when an edi-
fice is irregular, the more irregular it is the more it pleases
us. I see no way of accounting for this fact, save by sup-
posing that the greater the irregularity the more strongly
are we reminded of the inorganic forms typified, and the
more vividly are aroused the agreeable ideas of rugged
and romantic scenery associated with those forms.

Further evidence of these several relationships of styles
of architecture to classes of natural objects, is supplied by
the kinds of decoration they respectively represent. The

SIGNIFICANCE OF THE DECOEATION9. 495

public buildings of Greece, while characterized in their
outlines by the bilateral symmetry seen in the higher ani-
mals, have their pediments and entablatures covered with
sculptured men and beasts. Egyptian temples and Assyr-
ian palaces, while similarly symmetrical in their general
plan, are similarly ornamented on their walls and at their
doors. In Gothic, again, with its grove-like ranges of clus
tered columns, we find rich foliated ornaments abundantly
employed. And accompanying the totally irregular, inor-
ganic outlines of old castles, we see neither vegetable nor
animal decorations. The bare, rock-like walls are sur-
mounted by battlements, consisting of almost plain blocks,
which remind us of the projections on the edge of a rugged
cliff.

But perhaps the most significant fact is the harmony
that may be observed between each type of architecture
and the scenes in which it is indigenous. For what is the
explanation of this harmony, unless it be that the predomi-
nant character of surrounding things has, in some way, de-
termined the mode of building adopted ?

That the harmony exists is clear. Equally in the cases
of Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and Rome, town life preceded
the construction of the symmetrical buildings that have
come down to us. And town life is one in which, as al-
ready observed, the majority of familiar objects are sym-
metrical. We instinctively feel the naturalness of this asso-
ciation. Out amid the fields, a formal house, with a cen-
tral door flanked by an equal number of windows to right
and left, strikes us as unrural — looks as though transplanted
from a street ; and we cannot look at one of those stuccoed
villas, with mock windows carefully arranged to balance
the real ones, without being reminded of' the suburban res-
idence of a retired tradesman.

In styles indigenous in the country, we not only find the
general irregularity characteristic of surrounding things,

£26 THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES.

but we may trace some kinship between each kind of irreg-
ularity and the local circumstances. We see the broken
rocky masses amid which castles are commonly placed, mir-
rored in their stern, inorganic forms. In abbeys, and such-
like buildings, which are commonly found in comparatively
sheltered districts, we find no such violent dislocations of
masses and outlines ; and the nakedness appropriate to the
fortress is replaced by decorations reflecting the neighbour-
ing woods. Between a Swiss cottage and a Swiss view
there is an evident relationship. The angular roof, so bold
and so disproportionately large when compared to other
roofs, reminds one of the adjacent mountain peaks ; and
the broad overhanging eaves have a sweep and inclination
like those of the lower branches of a pine tree. Consider,
too, the apparent kinship between the flat roofs that prevail
in Eastern cities, interspersed with occasional minarets, and
the plains that commonly surround them, dotted here and
there by palm trees. You cannot contemplate a picture of
one of these places, without being struck by the predomi-
nance of horizontal lines, and their harmony with the wide
stretch of the landscape.

That the congruity here pointed out should hold in
every case must not be expected. The Pyramids, for ex-
ample, do not seem to come under this generalization.
Their repeated horizontal lines do indeed conform to the
flatness of the neighbouring desert ; but their general con-
tour seems to have no adjacent analogue. Considering,
however, that migrating races, carrying their architectural
systems with them, would naturally produce buildings hav-
ing no relationship to their new localities ; and that it is
not always possible to distinguish styles which are indige-
nous, from those which are naturalized ; numerous anoma-
lies must be looked for.

The general idea above illustrated will perhaps be some-
what misinterpreted. Possibly some will take the proposi*

THEIR UNCONSCIOUS GROWTH. 427

tion to be that men intentionally gave to their buildings
the leading characteristics of neighbouring objects. But
this is not what is meant. I do not suppose that they did
so in times past, any more than they do so now. The hy-
pothesis is, that in their choice of forms men are uncon-
sciously influenced by the forms encircling them. That
flat-roofed, symmetrical architecture should have originated
in the East, among pastoral tribes surrounded by their
herds and by wide plains, seems to imply that the builders
were swayed by the horizontality and symmetry to which
they were habituated. And the harmony which we have
found to exist in other cases between indigenous styles and
their localities, implies the general action of like influences.
Indeed, on considering the matter psychologically, I do not
see how it could well be otherwise. For as all conceptions
must be made up of images, and parts of images, received
through the senses — as it is impossible for a man to con-
ceive any design save one of which the elements have come
into his mind from without ; and as his imagination will
most readily run in the direction of his habitual percep-
tions ; it follows, almost necessarily, that the characteristic
which predominates in these habitual perceptions must im-
press itself on his design.

XIII
THE USE OP ANTHllOPOMORPHISM.

THAT long fit of indignation which seizes all generous
natures when in youth they begin contemplating hu-
man affairs, having fairly spent itself, there slowly grows
up a perception that the institutions, beliefs, and forms so
vehemently condemned are not wholly bad. This reaction
runs to various lengths. In some, merely to a comparative
contentment with the arrangements under which they live.
In others to a recognition of the fitness that exists between
each people and its government, tyrannical as that may be.
In some, again, to the conviction, that hateful though it is
to us, and injurious as it would be now, slavery was once
beneficial — was one of the necessary phases of human pro-
gress. Again, in others, to the suspicion that great benefit
has indirectly arisen from the perpetual warfare of past
times ; insuring as this did the spread of the strongest races,
and so providing good raw material for civilization. And
in a few this reaction ends in the generalization that all
modes of human thought and action subserve, in the times
and places in which they occur, some useful function : that
though bad in the abstract, they are relatively good — are
the best which the then existing conditions admit of.

A startling conclusion to which this faith in the essen-
tial beneficence of things commits us, is that the religious
creeds through which mankind successively pass, are, dur-

FAITHS AND CREEDS ABE AFFAIRS OF GROWTH. 429

ing the eras in which they are severally held, the best
that could be held ; and that this is true, not only of thp
latest and most refined creeds, but of all, even to the ear-
liest and most gross. Those who regard men's faiths as
given to them from without — as having origins either di-
rectly divine or diabolical, and who, considering their own
as the sole example of the one, class all the rest under the
other, will think this a very shocking opinion. I can im-
agine, too, that many of those who have abandoned cur-
rent theologies, and now regard religions as so many
natural products of human nature — men who, having lost
that antagonism towards their old creed which they felt
while shaking themselves free from it, can now see that it
was highly beneficial to past generations, and is beneficial
still to a large part of mankind ; — I can imagine even these
hardly prepared to admit that all religions, down to the
lowest Fetichism, have, in their places, fulfilled useful func-
tions. If such, however, will consistently develop their
ideas, they will find this inference involved.

For if it be true that humanity in its corporate as well
as in its individual aspect, is a growth and not a manufac-
ture, it is obvious that during each phase men's theologies,
as well as their political and social arrangements, must be
determined into such forms as the conditions require. In the
one case as in the other, by a tentative process, things from
time to time re-settle themselves in a way that best consists
with national equilibrium. As out of plots and the strug-
gles of chieftains, it continually results that the strongest
gets to the top, and by virtue of his proved superiority
ensures a period of quiet, and gives society time to grow ;
as out of incidental expedients there periodically arise new
divisions of labour, which get permanently established
only by serving men's wants better than the previous ar-
rangements did ; so, the creed which each period evolves is
one more in conformity with the needs of the time than

4:30 THE USE OF ANTHROPOMOKPHISM.

the creed which preceded it. Not to rest in general state-
ments, however, let us consider why this must be so. Let
us see whether, in the genesis of men's ideas of deity, there
is not involved a necessity to conceive of deity under the
aspect most influential with them.

It is now generally admitted that a more or less ideal-
ized humanity is the form which every conception of a per-
sonal God must take. Anthropomorphism is an inevitable
result of the laws of thought. We cannot take a step to-
wards constructing an idea of God without the ascription
of human attributes. We cannot even speak of a divine
will without assimilating the divine nature to our own ;
for we know nothing of volition save as a property of our
own minds.

While this anthropomorphic tendency, or rather neces-
sity, is manifested by themselves with sufficient grossness —
a grossness that is offensive to those more advanced —
Christians are indignant at the still grosser manifestations
of it seen among uncivilized men. Certainly, such concep-
tions as those of some Polynesians, who believe that their
gods feed on the souls of the dead, or as those of the
Greeks, who ascribed to the personages of their Pantheon
every vice, from domestic cannibalism downward, are re-
pulsive enough. But if, ceasing to regard these notions
from the outside, we more philosophically regard them
from the inside — if we consider how they looked to believers,
and observe the relationships they bore to the natures and
needs of such ; we shall begin to think of them with some
tolerance. The question to be answered is, whether these
beliefs were beneficent in their effects on those who held
them ; not whether they would be beneficent for us, or
for perfect men ; and to this question the answer must be
that while absolutely bad, they were relatively good.

For is it not obvious that the savage man will be most
effectually controlled by his fears of a savage deity?

NECESSITY OF THE IDEA OF A CRUEL DEITY. 431

Must it not happen, that if his nature requires great re-
straint, the supposed consequences of transgression, to be
a check upon him, must be proportionately terrible ; and
for these to be proportionately terrible, must not his god
be conceived as proportionately cruel and revengeful? Is it
not well that the treacherous, thievish, lying Hindoo should
believe in a hell where the wicked are boiled in cauldrons, roll-
ed down mountains bristling with knives, and sawn asunder
between flaming iron posts ? And that there may be pro-
vided such a hell, is it not needful that he should believe in a
divinity delighting in human immolations and the self-tor-
ture of fakirs ? Does it not seem clear that during the
earlier ages in Christendom, when men's feelings were so
hard that a holy father could describe one of the delights
of heaven to be the contemplation of the torments of the
damned — does it not seem clear that while the general na-
ture was so unsympathetic, there needed, to keep men in
order, all the prospective tortures described by Dante, and
a deity implacable enough to inflict them ?

And if, as we thus see, it is well for the savage man to
believe in a savage god, then we may also see the great
usefulness of this anthropomorphic tendency; or, as before
said, necessity. We have in it another illustration of that
essential beneficence of things visible everywhere through-
out nature. From this inability under which we labour to
conceive of a deity save as some idealization of ourselves,
it inevitably results that in each age, among each people,
and to a great extent in each individual, there must arise
just that conception of deity best adapted to the needs of
the case. If, being violent and bloodthirsty, the nature be
one calling for stringent control, it evolves the idea of a
ruler still more violent and bloodthirsty, and fitted to afford
this control. When, by ages of social discipline, the nature
has been partially humanized, and the degree of restraint re-
quired has become less, the diabolical characteristics before
20

432 THE USE OF ANTHEOPOMOEPHISM.

ascribed to the deity cease to be so predominant in the
conception of him. And gradually, as all need for restraint
disappears, this conception approximates ' towards that of
a purely beneficent necessity. Thus, man's constitution is
in this, as in other respects, self-adjusting, self-balancing.
The mind itself evolves a compensating check to its own
movements ; varying always in proportion to the require-
ment. Its centrifugal and its centripetal forces are neces-
sarily in correspondence, because the one generates the
other. And so we find that the forms of both religious
and secular rule follow the same law. As an ill-controlled
national character produces a despotic terrestrial govern-
ment, so also does it produce a despotic celestial govern-
ment— the one acting through the senses, the other
through the imagination ; and in the converse case the
same relationship holds good.

Organic as this relationship is in its origin, no artificial
interference can permanently affect it. Whatever pertur-
bations an external agency may seem to produce, they are
soon neutralized in fact, if not in appearance. I was re-
cently struck with this in reading a missionary account of
the " gracious visitations of the Holy Spirit at Vewa," one
of the Feejee islands. Describing a " penitent meeting,"
the account says : —

" Certainly the feelings of the Vewa people were not ordi-
nary. They literally roared for hours together for the disquietude
of their souls. This frequently terminated in fainting from ex-
haustion, which was the only respite some of them had till they
found peace. They no sooner recovered their consciousness than
they prayed themselves first into an agony, then again into a state
of entire insensibility."

Now these Feejee islanders are the most savage of all
the uncivilized races. They are given to cannibalism, in
fanticide, and human sacrifices ; they are so bloodthirsty

CONVERSION AMONG THE FEEJEEANS. 433

and so treacherous, that members of the same family dare
not trust each other ; and, in harmony with these charac-
teristics, they have for their aboriginal god, a serpent. Is
it not clear then, that these violent emotions which the
missionaries describe, these terrors and agonies of despair
which they rejoiced over, were nothing but the worship of
the old god under a new name ? Is it not clear that these
Feejees had simply understood those parts of the Christian
creed which agree in spirit with their own — the vengeance,
the perpetual torments, the diabolism of it; that these,
harmonizing with their natural conceptions of divine rule,
were realized by them with extreme vividness ; and that
the extremity of the fear which made them " literally roar
for hours together," arose from the fact that while they
could fully take in and believe the punitive element, the
merciful one was beyond their comprehension ? * This is
the obvious inference. And it carries with it the further
one, that in essence their new belief was merely their old
one under a new form — the same substantial conception
with a different history and different names.

However great, therefore, may be the seeming change
adventitiously produced in a people's religion, the anthro-
pomorphic tendency prevents it from being other than a
superficial change — insures such modifications of the new
religion as to give it all the potency of the old one — ob-
scures whatever higher elements there may be in it until
the people have reached the capability of being acted upon
by them : and so, re-establishes the equilibrium between
the impulses and the control they need. If any one re-
quires detailed illustrations of this, he will find them in
abundance in the history of the modifications of Christian-
ity throughout Europe.

Ceasing then to regard heathen theologies from the
personal point of view, and considering them solely with
reference to the function they fulfil where they are indigo-

434 THE USE OF ANTHROPOMORPHISM.

nous, we must recognise them in commo* with all theolo-
gies, as good for their time and places,; and this mental
necessity which disables us from conceiving a deity save as
some idealization of ourselves, we must recognise as the
agency by which harmony is produced and maintained
between every phase of human character and its religious
creed.

INDEX.

Abstract and concrete, relations of,
174.

Actions, voluntary and involuntary,
307.

Analogies of the rudest societies to
the lowest forms of life, 386, 390.

Analogies of function between living
beings and societies, 398.

Annulosa, structure of, compared to
that of nations, 396, 410.

Anthropomorphism, necessity, of,
410.

Architectural ideas, origin of, 427.

Architecture, relationship to natural
objects, 423 ; illustrations of, 423-
425 ; town, why symmetrical, 423 ;
country, why irregular, 425.

Arts, interconnexion of, 187.

Astronomic influences upon climate
produce breaks in geological suc-
cession, 344.

Automatic actions of men and gov-
ernments, 414.

Australia, fauna of, 338.

B

Bain " On the Emotions and Will,"

estimate of, 290.
Beauty, its evolution from utility,

417, 421.
Beliefs, how to judge of them, 430.
Bow, derivation of the, 78.
Breaks in the geological record,

Hugh Miller upon, 343 ; produced
by astronomic causes, 344 ; by re-
distributions of land and sea, 347.
Buildings related to landscape, 426 ;
cause of incongruities in, 426 ; re-
lation unintentional, 427.

Cambrian rocks, inference from their
thickness, 354.

Calculus, origin of, 158.

Castles, built with no reference to
art, 418.

Cause, single, produces more than
one effect, 32 ; illustrated in geo-
logical phenomena, 35 ; in chemi-
cal, 40 ; in organic evolution, 42 :
in social progress, 50 ; in use of
locomotive engine, 53.

Central America, effects of subsi-
dence of, 38.

Cerebrum, analogy of to houses of
parliament, 411, 414.

Circulation in animal bodies and
bodies politic, 389, 399 ; rates of
movement in, 405 ; of money and
blood-discs, 402.

Classifications of science, progress
of, 183, what they indicate, 125 ;
Oken's, 125 ; Hegel's, 128 ; Comte's,
131 ; serial arrangement vicious,
144.

Classification, the mental process in,
147 ; advances with rationality,
157 ; how it has aided science,

436

INDEX.

182 ; of the cognitions, 309 ; of the
feelings, 311 : in Psychology, for
the present must be provisional,
288, 289.

Climate, changes in, produced by
astronomic rhythm, 344; by re-
distributions of land and sea,
347.

Comets, formation of, 256 ; orbits
of, 258; distribution of, 259, 261.

Common knowledge, nature of, 117 ;
relation of, to science, 118, 122.

Comte's hierarchy of the sciences,
131.

Consciousness, mystery of, 197.

Condensation of nebula, 250.

Contrast, its relation toK beauty, 420.

Creeds suited to the age that holds
them, 429, 431.

Curtsy, origin of, 79.

D

Densities of the planets, 278, 279.

Development hypothesis, neither
proved nor disproved by Paleon-
tology, 355, 364 ; defense of,
367.

Direct creation inconceivable, 366;
no examples of, 365 ; origin of the
notion, 361.

E

Earth's crust, 5 ; contraction of, 35.

Ectoderm social and embryonic,
307.

Education, bearing of evolution of
science upon, 193.

Emotions in animals, genesis of,
303.

Emotional language, 232; impor-
tance of, 235, 238.

Engine, locomotive, results of in-
vention of, 53.

Equality, origin of notion of, 152,
158 ; of things and relations, 153.

Evolution of the emotions, 299.

Evolution of governmental and ner-
vous structures, 308.

F

Fashion, origin of, 90; corruption

of, 91.
Feeling and action, relation of, 199,

208.

Feeling, mystery of, 197 ; effects of
surplus in producing laughter,
201 ; why it disturbs the intel-
lect, 207.

Feeling, a stimulus to muscular ac-
tion, 211 , 220 ; shown in loudness
of voice, 215 ; in quality or tim-
bre, 215 ; in pitch, 216 ; in inter-
vals, 217 ; in variability of pitch,
219 ; relation of, to vocal sounds
in ourselves, 220 ; in others, 220 ;
causes prostration, 222 ; classifi-
cation of the feelings, 311.

Fejee islanders, penitent meeting
among, 432.

Final cause, 262, 272, 275, 281.

Fossils as tests of age and position,
327, 335.

Function of music, 231-235.

Generalizations premature, use of,
311 ; as seen in nistory of Astrono-
my, 314 ; in Geology, 315.

Genesis of new emotions in civiliza-
tion, 301 ; in animals, 303.

Geological evidence, value of, 8.

Geologic "systems," are they uni-
versal? 323-327.

Geometry, origin of, 158, 167.

God, origin of the conception of,
65.

Gothic architecture, source of, 433,
434.

Government, rise of. 12, 69, 92 ;
three-fold nature or, 13, 65, 83 ;
separation of civil from religious,
69 ; early need of severe, 85 ; pro-
gressive amelioration of, 88 ;
course of all, 114 ; results from
national character, 375.

Great men, relation of to social
changes, 376.

Greek and Eoman architecture, de-
rivation of, 423.

H

Heathen theologies, estimate of,

44.
Hegel's classification of philosophy,

128.
History as commonly studied, small

value of, 373.

INDEX.

437

Hobbs's parallelism of society and
the human body, 367.

Homogeneous, change of to hetero-
geneous, 3; seen in genesis of
solar svstem, 3 ; in phenomena
of earth's crust, 5 ; m the ad-
vance of life in general, 7 ; in the
progress of man, 10 ; in growth
of civilization, 12; in govern-
ment^ 13 ; in language, 17 ; in
painting and sculpture, 20 ; in
poetry, music, and dancing, 24;
cause of this universal change,
32.

Hutton's geological system, 315 ;
contrast of the modern with, 318.

Hydra compared with primitive
tribes, 389, 395, 400, 408.

Hydrozoa, analogies of, 389, 391,
400.

Industrial organization, 373.

Industrial arrangements, develop-
ment of compared with that of
the alimentary organs, 398.

Insensible modifications effect great
changes, 367 ; illustrated by geo-
metrical curves, 306 ; by physio-
logical development, 370.

K

King's councils compared to gan-
glia, 409, 411.

Knowledge, experience the source
of all, 126; relations of various
kinds of, 167.

Language, differentiation of2 17 :
origin of written, 18: origin of
verbal, 149 ; origin of emotional,
220.

La Place's theory of planetary evo-
lution, 263-265.

Laughter, common explanations of,
194 ; movements in. 200 ; groups
of muscles successively affected
in, 201 ; caused by incongruities,
203 ; facilitates digestion, 207.

Law, origin of, 70.

Likeness and unlikeness, recogni-

tion of. the basis of classification,

147 ; ttie basis of language, 149 ;

of reasoning, 150 ; of art, 151 ;

leads to science, 152.
Logic, how evolved, 158.
Lyell, Sir Charles, criticism upon,

'326, 330.

M

Man, progress of, 10.

Maimers, genesis of, 77 ; decline of
the influence of, 89 ; conformity in
manners leads to extravagance,
99 ; conformity in, decreases so-
cial intercourse, 100 ; defeats the
true end of social life, 102, 107.

MathematicSj how evolved, 158.

Mechanics, rise of science of, 168.

Mineral qualities of rocks untrust-
worthy tests of age or position,
320.

Miller, Hugh, estimate of, 340.

Motion of nebulous matter, 251-
253.

Morality, origin of, 70.

Muscular movements, cause of, 195 ;
arrested by feeling, 199 ; in laugh-
ter purposeless, 201 ; of animals
when excited, 211 : variations of,
produce changes or voice, 214.

Music, increasing heterogeneity of,
26; relation of mental to muscu-
lar excitement, the source of, 214 ;
theory of, 221-224; its history
confirms the theory, 224-228 ;
negative proof of theory of, 228-
231.

Murchison, Sir E. I., criticism upon
his " Siluria," 320, 328, 351, 354.

N

Nebula, are they parts of our side-
real system ? 243j 249 ; condensa-
tion of, 250 ; motion in, 251 ; sig-
nificance of forms of, 254 ; struc-
ture of spiral, 254.

Nebular hypothesis, 3, 34; its high
derivation, 239 ; it explains comet-
ary phenomena, 262.

Negative facts in geology, small
value of, 360-363.

Nervous system, effects of excite-
ment in, 195; directions of dis-
charge of excitement in, 197 ;

438

INDEX.

course of discharge unguided by
purpose, 201.
Number, origin of conception of,
154.

0

Oken's classification of knowledge,
125.

Painting and sculpture, origin of,
20.

Paleontology neither proves nor dis-
proves development, 355, 364.

Picturesque, meaning of, 421.

Plato's model republic, central idea
of, 376.

Previsions and ordinary knowledge,
117 ; previsions known as science,
118 ; common and scientific, 123 ;
when quantitative arose, 158 ; in-
crease in precision, 171.

Primary divisions of a germ and of
a society, 392-395.

Progress, current meaning of, 1 ;
present inquiry concerning, 2 ;
law of progress exemplified in the
genesis of solar system, 3 ; in the
phenomena of the earth's crust,
5 ; in the advance of life in gene-
ral, 7 ; in the history of man,
10 ; in the growth of civilization,
12; in government, 13; in lan-
guage, 17 ; in painting and sculps
ture, 20; in poetry, music, and
dancing, 24; statement of the
principle which determines pro-
gress of every kind, 32 ; the prin-
ciple of progress illustrated in
geological phenomena, 35 ; in
chemical, 40 ; in organic evolu-
tion, 42 ; in social advancement,
50 ; in use of locomotive en-
gine, 54; this principle does not
explain things in themselves,
58 ; progress of science, 141 ;
of astronomical discovery, 165,

Progress of animals and societies in
forming channels of communica-
tion, 404.

Psychology, relation of English
thought to, 289 ; classification in,
for the present, must be provis-
ional, 288, 289.

E

Seasoning, nature of, 150 ; basis of,
154 ; advances, with classification,
157.

Eeformers, eccentricities of, 61 ; why
necessary, 93 ; not selfish, 95, 97 ;
difficulties of social, 110.

Eeform, how is it to be effected?
111.

Eeligion aided by inquiry, 58.

Eeligious ideas, account of primi-
tive, 66.

S

Saturn, rings of, 276.

Satellites, distribution of, 272-276.

Savage men need a savage deity,
431.

Science, limits of, 58 ; definition of.
119 ; when complete, 120 ; test or
the depth of, 122; slow growth
of, 123 ; duplex progress of, 141 ;
ultimate analysis of exact, 160.

Sciences, early simultaneous ad-
vance of, 165 ; not independent
of each other, 186 ; aid each other
by analogies, 181 ; mutual influ-
ence of modern, 178.

Sculpture and painting, origin of,
20.

Solar System, movements of planets
on their axes in, 267-271.

Strata now forming, lithological dif-
ferences in. 335 ; differences in
the order oi superposition of, 336 ;
differences in the organic remains
of, 337.

Societies and individual organisms,
points of agreement between, 379-
381 ; differences of, examined, 381-
385.

Social intercourse, philosophy of,
105.

Social changes, true source of, 374.

Spectrum analysis, 283.

Spiral nebula, 255.

Steam-engine, multiplied effects of,
53.

Sun, constitution of, 282, 284; rela-
tion of plane of its equator to
plane of planetary orbits, 266.

Telegraph wires, comparison of to
nerves, 415.

INDEX.

439

Titles, derivation of, 72 ; deprecia-
tion of, 74.
Truth, ultimate test of, 130.

U

Useful passes into the beautiful,
418, 421.

Voice, cause of loudness of, 215 ;

cause of quality of, 215 ; of pitch
of, 216 : intervals in, 217 ; varia-
bility of the pitch of, 219.
Voluntary and involuntary actions,
307.

W

Werner's system of Geology, 316;
contrast of, with the modern sys-
tem, 318.

THE END.

THE SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY

OF

HERBERT SPENCER.

FIRST PRINCIPLES.

1 vol. $2.00.

CONTENTS.

Part I.— The Unknowable.

1. Religion and Science. 4. The Relativity of all Knowl-

2. Ultimate Religious Ideas. edge.

3. Ultimate Scientific Ideas. 5. The Reconciliation.

Part II. — The Know able.

1. Philosophy defined. 13. Simple and Compound Evolu-

2. The Data of Philosophy. tion.

3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion, 14. The Law of Evolution.

and Force. 15. The Law of Evolution (con-

4. The Indestructibility of Matter. tinued).

5. The Continuity of Motion. 16. The Law of Evolution (con-

6. The Persistence of Force. tinued).

7. The Persistence of Relations 17. The Law of Evolution (con-

among Forces. eluded).

8. The Transformation and Equiv- 18. The Interpretation of Evolution.

alence of Forces. 19. The Instability of the Homoge-

9. The Direction of Motion. neous.

10. The Rhythm of Motion. 20. The Multiplication of Effects.

11. Recapitulation, Criticism, and 21. Segregation.

Recommencement. 22. Equilibration.

12. Evolution and Dissolution. 23. Dissolution.

24. Summary and Conclusion.

THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY.

2 vols. $4.00.

CONTEXTS OF VOL. I.

Part I. — The Data of Biology.

1. Organic Matter. 4. Proximate Definition of Life.

2. The Actions of Forces on Or- 5. The Correspondence between

ganic Matter. Life and its Circumstances.

3. The Reactions of Organic Mat- 6. The Degree of Life varies as the

ter on Forces. Degree of Correspondence.

7. The Scope of Biology.

SPENCER'S synthetic philosophy.

Part II. — The Inductions of Biology.

1. Growth.

2. Development.

3. Function.

4. Waste and Kepair.

5. Adaptation.

6. Individuality.

7. Genesis.

8. Heredity.

9. Variation.

10. Genesis, Heredity, and Varia-

tion.
IT. Classification.
12. Distribution.

Part III.— The

Preliminary.

General Aspects of the Special-
Creation Hypothesis.

General Aspects of the Evolu-
tion Hypothesis.

The Arguments from Classifica-
tion.

The Arguments from Embryo!

ogy.

The Arguments from Morphol-
ogy.

Evolution of Life.

7. The Arguments from Distribu-

tion.

8. How is Organic Evolution

caused ?

9. External Factors.

10. Internal Factors.

11. Direct Equilibration.

12. Indirect Equilibration.

13. The Cooperation of the Factors.

14. The Convergence of the Evi-

dences.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
Part IV. — Morphological Development.

The Problems of Morphology.
The Morphological Composition

of Plants.
The Morphological Composition

of Plants (continued).
The Morphological Composition

of Animals.
The Morphological Composition

of Animals (continued).
Morphological Differentiation in

Plants.
The General Shapes of Plants.
The Shapes of Branches.

9. The Shapes of Leaves.

10. The Shapes of Flowers.

11. The Shapes of Vegetal Cells.

12. Changes of Shape otherwise

caused.
Morphological Differentiation in

Animals.
The General Shapes of Animals.

15. The Shapes of Vertebrate Skele-

tons.

16. The Shapes of Animal Cells.

17. Summary of Morphological De-

velopment.

13

14

Part V. — Physiological Development.

The Problems of Physiology.

Differentiations among the Out-
er and Inner Tissues of Plants.

Differentiations among the Out-
er Tissues of Plants.

Differentiations among the In-
ner Tissues of Plants.

Physiological Integration in
Plants.

6. Differentiations between the

Outer and Inner Tissues of
Animals.

7. Differentiations among the Out-

er Tissues of Animals.

8. Differentiations among the In-

ner Tissues of Animals.

9. Physiological Integration in An-

imals.

10. Summary of Physiological Development.

spencer's synthetic philosophy. 3

Part VI. — Laws of Multiplication.

1. The Factors. 8. Antagonism between Expendi-

2. A priori Principle. ture and Genesis.

3. Obverse a priori Principle. 9. Coincidence between High Nu-

4. Difficulties of Inductive Verifi- trition and Genesis.

cation. 10. Specialties of these Rela-
6. Antagonism between Growth tions.

and Asexual Genesis. 11. Interpretation and Qualifica-

6. Antagonism between Growth tion.

and Sexual Genesis. 12. Multiplication of the Human

7. Antagonism between Develop- Race.

ment and Genesis, Asexual 13. Human Evolution in the Fu-
and Sexual. ture.

Appendix.

A Criticism on Professor Owen's The- On Circulation and the Formation
oryofthe Vertebrate Skeleton. of Wood in Plants.

THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY.

2 vols. $4.00.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

Part I. — The Data of Psychology.

1. The Nervous System. 4. The Conditions essential to Ner-

2. The Structure of the Nervous vous Action.

System. 5. Nervous Stimulation and Ner-

3. The Functions of the Nervous vous Discharge.

System. 6. JEstho-Physiology.

Part II. — The Inductions op Psychology.

1. The Substance of Mind. 6. The Revivability of Relations

2. The Composition of Mind. between Feelings.

3. The Relativity of Feelings. 7. The Associability of Feelings.

4. The Relativity of Relations be- 8. The Associability of Relations

tween Feelings. between Feelings.

5. The Revivability of Feelings. 9. Pleasures and Pains.

Part III. — General Synthesis.

1. Life and Mind as Correspon- 6. The Correspondence as increas-

dence. ing in Specialty.

2. The Correspondence as Direct 7. The Correspondence as increas-

and Homogeneous. ing in Generality.

3. The Correspondence as Direct 8. The Correspondence as increas-

but Heterogeneous. ing in Complexity.

4. The Correspondence as extend- 9. The Coordination of Correspon-

ing in Space. dences.

5. The Correspondence as extend- 10. The Integration of Correspon-

ing in Time. dences.

11. The Correspondences in their Totality.

SPENCEE'S SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY.

Part IV.-

1. The Nature of Intelligence.

2. The Law of Intelligence.

3. The Growth of Intelligence.

4. Reflex Action.

9.

Special Synthesis.

5. Instinct.

6. Memory.

7. Reason.

8. The Feelings.
The WE

Part V. — Physical

1. A Further Interpretation need- 6.

ed.

2. The Genesis of Nerves. 7.

3. The Genesis of Simple Nervous

Systems. 8.

4. The Genesis of Compound Ner-

vous Systems. 9.

5. The Genesis of Doubly Com-

pound Nervous Systems. 10.

Synthesis. .

Functions as related to these
Structures.

Physical Laws as thus inter-
preted.

Evidence from Normal Varia-
tions.

Evidence from Abnormal Va-
riations.

Results.

Appendix.
On the Action of Anaesthetics and Narcotics.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
Part VI. — Special Analysis.

1. Limitation of the Subject.

2. Compound Quantitative Reason-

ing.

3. Compound Quantitative Reason-

ing (continued).

4. Imperfect and Simple Quantita-

tive Reasoning.

5. Quantitative Reasoning in gen-

eral.

6. Perfect Qualitative Reasoning.

7. Imperfect Qualitative Reason-

ing.

8. Reasoning in general.

9. Classification, Naming, and Rec-

ognition.

10. The Perception of Special Ob-

jects.

11. The Perception of Body as pre-

senting Dynamical, Statico-
Dynamical, and Statical Attri-
butes.

12. The Perception of Body as pre-

senting Statico-Dynamical and
Statical Attributes.

13.

The Perception of Body as
presenting Statical Attri-
butes.

The Perception of Space.

The Perception of Time.

16. The Perception of Motion.

17. The Perception of Resist-

ance.
Perception in general.
The Relations of Similarity and

Dissimilarity.
The Relations of Cointension

and Non-Cointension.
The Relations of Coextension

and Non-Coextension.
The Relations of Coexistence

and Non-Coexistence.
The Relations of Connature and

Non-Connature.
The Relations of Likeness and

Unlikeness.
The Relation of Sequence.
Consciousness in general.
Results.

14
15

18.
19.

20.

21.
22.
23.
24.

25.
26.

27.

spencer's synthetic philosophy.

Part VII. — General Analysis.

1.
2.

3.
4.

5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.

The Final Question.

The Assumption of Metaphysi-
cians.

The Words of Metaphysicians.

The Reasonings of Metaphysi-
cians, [ism.

Negative Justification of Real-

The Argument from Priority.

The Argument from Simplicity.

The Argument from Distinct-

A Criterion wanted. [ness.

Propositions qualitatively dis-
tinguished.

Part VIII.-

Special Psychology.
Classification.

Development of Conceptions.
Language of the Emotions.

1.

2.

3.
4.

5.
6.

7.

8.
9.

10.
11.

12.
13.
14.

11. The Universal Postulate.

12. The Test of Relative Validity.

13. Its Corollaries.

14. Positive Justification of Real-

ism.

15. The Dynamics of Consciousness.

16. Partial Differentiation of Sub-

ject and Object.

17. Completed Differentiation of

Subject and Object.

18. Developed Conception of the

Object.

19. Transfigured Realism.

-Corollaries.

6. Sociality and Sympathy.

6. Egoistic Sentiments.

7. Ego-Altruistic Sentiments.

8. Altruistic Sentiments.

9. ^Esthetic Sentiments.

THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY.

Vol. I. $2.00.

CONTENTS.

Part I. — The Data of Sociology.

Super-Organic Evolution.

The Factors of Social Phenom-
ena.

Original External Factors.

Original Internal Factors.

The Primitive Man — Physical.

The Primitive Man — Emotional.

The Primitive Man — Intellec-
tual.

Primitive Ideas.

The Ideas of the Animate and
the Inanimate.

The Ideas of Sleep and Dreams.

The Ideas of Swoon, Apoplexy,
Catalepsy, Ecstasy, and other
Forms of Insensibility.

The Ideas of Death and Resur-
rection.

The Ideas of Souls, Ghosts,
Spirits, Demons.

The Ideas of Another Life.

1 5. The Ideas of Another World.

16. The Ideas of Supernatural

Agents.

17. Supernatural Agents as causing

Epilepsy and Convulsive Ac-
tions, Delirium and Insanity,
Disease and Death.

18. Inspiration, Divination, Exor-

cism, and Sorcery.

19. Sacred Places, Temples, and

Altars ; Sacrifice, Fasting, and
Propitiation; Praise, Prayer.

20. Ancestor-Worship in general.

21. Idol- Worship and Fetich- Wor-

ship.

22. Animal -Worship.

23. Plant-Worship.

24. Nature-Worship.

25. Deities.

26. The Primitive Theory of Things.

27. The Scope of Sociology.

spencer's synthetic philosophy.

Part II. — The Inductions of Sociology.

1. What is a Society?

2. A Society is an Organism.

3. Social Growth.

4. Social Structures.

5. Social Functions.

6. Systems of Organs.

7. The Sustaining System.

8. The Distributing System.

9. The Regulating System.

10. Social Types and Constitutions.

11. Social Metamorphoses.

12. Qualifications and Summary.

Part III. — The Domestic Relations.

The Maintenance of Species.
The Diverse Interests of the

Species, of the Parents, and

of the Offspring.
Primitive Relations of the Sexes.
Exogamy and Endogamy.

5. Promiscuity.

6. Polyandry.

7. Polygyny.

8. Monogamy.

9. The Family.

10. The Status of Women.

11. The Status of Children.

1 2. Domestic Retrospect and Pros-

pect.

Vol. II.
Part IV. — Ceremonial Institutions.
CONTENTS.

L.25.

1. Ceremony in general.

2- Trophies.

3. Mutilations.

4. Presents.

5. Visits.

6. Obeisances.

7. Forms of Address.

8. Titles.

9. Badges and Costumes.

10. Further Class-Distinctions.

11. Fashion.

12. Ceremonial Retrospect and Pros-

pect.

THE PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS.

Vol. I.
Part I.— The Data of Ethics. $1.50.

CONTENTS.

1. Conduct in general.

2. The Evolution of Conduct.

3. Good and Bad Conduct.

4. Ways of judging Conduct.

5. The Physical View.

6. The Biological View.

7. The Psychological View.

8. The Sociological View.

9. Criticisms and Explanations.

10. The Relativity of Pains and

Pleasures.

11. Egoism versus Altruism.

12. Altruism versus Egoism.

13. Trial and Compromise.

14. Conciliation.

16. Absolute Ethics and Relative

Ethics.
16. The Scope of Ethics.

THE MISCELLANEOUS WORKS

OF

HERBERT SPENCER.

EDUCATION:

INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL.

1 vol. $1.25.

CONTENTS.

1. What Knowledge is of most 2. Intellectual Education.
Worth ? 3. Moral Education.

4. Physical Education.

SOCIAL STATICS;

OR,

THE CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO HUMAN HAPPINESS SPECI-
FIED, AND THE FIRST OF THEM DEVELOPED.

1 vol. $2.00.

CONTENTS.

Introduction.

The Doctrine of Expediency. Lemma I.

The Doctrine of the Moral Sense. Lemma II.

Part I.

1. Definition of Morality. 3, The Divine Idea, and the Con-

2. The Evanescence of Evil. ditions of its Realization.

Part II.

4. Derivation of a First Principle. 10. The Right of Property.

5. Secondary Derivation of a First 11. The Right of Property in Ideas.

Principle. 12. The Right of Property in Ch'ar-

6. First Principle. [ciple. acter.

V. Application of this First Prin- 13. The Right of Exchange.

8. The Rights of Life and Per- 14. The Right of Free Speech.

sonal Liberty. 15. Further Rights.

9. The Right to the Use of the 16. The Rights of Women.

Earth. 11. The Rights of Children.

8

spencee's miscellaneous works.

Part III.

18. Political Rights.

19. The Right to ignore the State.

20. The Constitution of the State.

21. The Duty of the State.

22. The Limit of State-Duty.

23. The Regulation of Commerce.

24. Religious Establishment.

25. Poor-Laws.

26. National Education.

27. Government Colonization.

28. Sanitary Supervision. [etc.

29. Currency, Postal Arrangements,

30. General Considerations.

Part IV.

31. Summary.
32. Conclusion.

THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY.

1 vol. $1.50.
CONTENTS.

1. Our Need of it.

2. Is there a Social Science ?

3. Nature of the Social Science.

4. Difficulties of the Social Science.

5. Objective Difficulties.

6. Subjective Difficulties — Intel-

lectual.

7. Subjective Difficulties — Emo-

tional.

8. The Educational Bias.

9. The Bias of Patriotism.

10. The Class-Bias.

11. The Political Bias.

12. The Theological Bias.

13. Discipline.

14. Preparation in Biology.

15. Preparation in Psychology.

16. Conclusion.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF UNIVERSAL PROG-
RESS.

1 vol. $2.00.
CONTENTS.

1. Progress : its Law and Cause.

2. Manners and Fashion.

3. The Genesis of Science.

4. The Physiology of Laughter.

5. The Origin and Function of Mu-

6. The Nebular Hypothesis, [sic.

7. Bain on the Emotions and the

Will.

8. Illogical Geology.

9. Development Hypothesis.

10. The Social Organism.

11. Use and Beauty.

12. The Sources of Architectural

Types.

13. The Use of Anthropomor-

phism.

ESSAYS :

MORAL, POLITICAL, AND ^ESTHETIC.

1 vol. $2.00.

CONTENTS.

1. The Philosophy of Style. 3. The Morals of Trade.

2. Our Legislation. 4. Personal Beauty.

spencer's miscellaneous works.

5. Representative Government. 9. State Tampcrings with Money

6. Prison Ethics. and Banks.

7. Railway Morals and Railway 10. Parliamentary Reforms : the

Policies. Dangers and the Safeguards.

8. Gracefulness. 11. Mill verms Hamilton — the Test

of Truth.

RECENT DISCUSSIONS

IN SCIENCE, PHILOSOPHY, AND MORALS.

1 vol. $2.00.

CONTENTS.

1. Morals and Moral Sentiments. 6. Of Laws in general and the Or-

2. Origin of Animal-Worship. der of their Discovery.

3. The Classification of the Sci- 7. The Genesis of Science.

ences. 8. Specialized Administrations.

4. Postscript : Replying to Criti- 9. What is Electricity ?

cisms. 10. The Constitution of the Sun.

6. Reasons for dissenting from 11. The Collective Wisdom,
the Philosophy of Comte. 12. Political Fetichism.

13. Mr. Martineau on Evolution.

DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY;

OB GROUPS OF SOCIOLOGICAL FACTS.

CLASSIFIED AND ARRANGED BY

HERBERT SPENCER.

COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED BY

DAVID DUNCAN, M. A., Professor of Logic, etc., in the Presidency

College, Madras ; RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Ph. D., and

JAMES COLLIER.

In royal folio. Price, $4.00 each.

No. L

ENGLISH.

Compiled and abstracted by JAMES COLLIER.

No. II.

MEXICANS, CENTRAL AMERICANS, CHIB-

CHAS, AND PERUVIANS.

Compiled and abstracted by RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Ph.D.

10 spencer's miscellaneous works.

No. III.

LOWEST RACES, NEGRITO RACES, AND MA-
LAYO-POLYNESIAN RACES.

Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A.

Types of Lowest Races. Malayo-Polynesian Races.

Fuegians. Sandwich Islanders.

Andamans. Tahitiaris.

Veddahs. Tongans.

Australians. Samoans.

Negrito Races. New Zealanders.

Tasmanians. Dyaks.

New Caledonians, etc. Javans.

New Guinea People. Sumatrans.

Fijians. Malagasy.

No. IV.

AFRICAN RACES.

Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A.

Bushmen. East Africans. Dahomans.

Hottentots. Congo People. Ashantis.

Damaras. Coast Negroes. Fulahs.

Bechuanas. Inland Negroes. Abyssinians.

Kaffirs.

No. V.

ASIATIC RACES.

Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A.

Arabs. Santals. Mishmis.

Todas. Karens. Kirghiz.

Khonds. Kukis. Kalmucks.

Gonds. Nagas. Ostyaks.

Bhils. Bodo and Dhimals. Kamtschadales.

No. VI.

AMERICAN RACES.

Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A.

Esquimaux. Chippewas. Brazilians.

Chinooks. Dakotas. Uaupes.

Snakes. Mandans. Abipones.

Comanches. Creeks. Patagonians.

Iroquois. Guiana Tribes. Araucanians.

Chippewayans. Caribs.

HEBREWS AND PHOENICIANS. {Nearly ready.)
FRENCH. {Inpress.)

Spencer's Synthetic Philosophy.
- ♦ » -

THE DATA OF ETHICS.

By HERBERT SPENCER.

1 vol., 12mo. Cloth. 288 pages. ... Price, $1.50.

"Every year seems to widen the influence of that philosophical inquirer, in whom,
long ago, J. 8, Mill recognized one of the most vigorous as well as boldest thinkers
that English speculation has produced. As the majestic outlines of his design have
been disclosed, there has been a growing willingness to recognize not only the breadth
and solidity of his conclusions, but their regulative bearing on human conduct and the
practical concerns of life. It remained for the author to define the final outcome of
his philosophy, and this has been done in the present work." — New Yoi'k Sun.

" Mr. Spencer's main purpose is to ascertain and describe the objective qualities of
right conduct, the external signs of the highest virtue, and to show their coincidence
with the results of progressive evolution. This he has done in the course of the pro-
found and exhaustive analysis, of which he is so consummate a master, of vigorous
but singularly lucid reasonings, and of ample and impressive Hlustrations from every
department of Nature." — New York Tribune.

"We think that the verdict on this book of all candid readers will be that it accom-
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in conduct a scientific basis ; and, if this be true, it is needless to say that its effect will
be to give a new impulse and a new direction to ethical studies." — Popular /Science
Monthly.

" However widely many will differ with Mr. Spencer as to some of his generaliza-
tions, and especiaUy as to'his great underlying theory, all must admire and value the
clearness and fairness of his reasoning, his wonderful mastery of facts in all domains
of science, the keenness of his philosophic insight, and the singular beauty of his
ethical teachings. His impress upon the speculative thought of the age is undoubtedly
greater than that of any other living man." — Chicago Evening Journal.

" As examples of lucid, elegant style, Mr. Spencer's writings deserve careful study ;
but beyond and above mere form he is deserving of higher praise. Lucid style ac-
companies a wonderfully trained brain, fiUed with almost aU kinds of contemporary
knowledge, thoughts that reach, surround, and master the loftiest subjects, a love of
symmetry that connects masses of heterogeneous and conflicting thoughts into perfect
order and harmony, and an almost miraculous patience that is an attribute of genius
alone."— Boston Gazette.

" This book is constructed upon a clear and symmetrical plan, and is a model of
lucid and terse treatment. Such are the author's richness and variety of knowledge
that he is able to i) lustrate at every step the abstract principles which he lays down by
concrete instances cited from Sociology or the physical sciences. In no chapter does
his grasp of the subject appear more firm than in that on the ' Evolution of Conduct.' "
—Baltimore Gazette.

For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail, post-paid, to any address in the United
States, on receipt of price.

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